Majesty
by AnEmeraldPoppy
Summary: A three-part account of the Queen's life. Part I: how Ahamo came into her life and the events leading up to the series. Chapters 1-20 . Part II: the series' background events. Chapters 21-27. Part III: after the Eclipse. Chapters 28-40.
1. Athaliea

Chapter One

**Majesty: Part I**

**A Tin Man Fan Fiction**

**Being an account of the life of Queen of The Outer Zone, Her Royal Highness Athaliea Galinda Gale**

Chapter One

"Princess! Athaliea! Wait, please!" The advisor called after his charge. Athaliea paid no mind, but continued to run out into the gardens that surrounded the Palace. Tears streamed down her pink cheeks, and her thick, dark hair swirled out from the carefully placed knot onto her black mourning dress.

Sniffing and wiping her beautiful lavender eyes, Athaliea planted her hands firmly on her hips and took several deep breaths, gazing out at Finaqua and pacing several metres along its shoreline. As she marched back and forth, she could feel the magic tingling in her fingertips; always a sure sign that she was mad, and a warning to others not to approach. Stopping suddenly, she spun and faced the water, which perfectly reflected the snow-tipped mountains above it.

_All right now_, Athaliea told herself. _That's quite enough. You made a promise, Athaliea. A consort is necessary. Not a king, a _consort_. The Grey Gale had one—supposedly—your grandmother, Mother—_her eyes filled with tears again as she thought of her parents. Less than a month ago, the three of them had walked on this lawn, down the marble steps Athaliea had just descended. She turned suddenly, half-hoping to see her mother's smile, her father's open arms to run into. Another tear dropped down her cheek when there was no one there; she brushed it away hurriedly.

Dropping her shoulders, Athaliea wrapped her arms around herself and walked slowly, dragging her feet in the precise way her mother had tried so hard to correct. _A consort…I can't believe this._

"I'm only nineteen annuals!" she shouted at the top of her voice, scaring a tree full of nesting chinabirds. Their blue-tipped wings matched the clear blue of the sky as they fluttered away. Athaliea watched them for a moment before dropping ungracefully onto the bench that encircled the empty tree. She put her chin on her fist and started to review the facts. When the period of mourning for her parents was over, she would be crowned Queen Athaliea Galinda I of the Outer Zone. That gave her another month, give or take, to find a consort. _And the Zone, not to mention our neighbouring regions, are filled with young men who are more than suitable for a young princess like yourself_, Adlai had said.She blew out the breath she'd been holding and leaned back. As fond as she was of Adlai, formerly her mother's advisor, she did not appreciate it when he peered condescendingly at her from under his thick eyebrows. And that boy. The short boy who was always hanging around the office. He couldn't have been more than ten, and he was allowed to stand in the back of the royal advisor during meetings with the crown princess. Everyone in the Palace was always talking about how smart he was. Athaliea smirked. She hadn't heard Ambrose speak once since he'd been adopted, if that's what it was, by Adlai.

_Don't take it out on him—he seems nice enough,_ said a diplomatic little voice in the back of her mind. She sighed again. Picking herself up and turning to walk towards into the Mayze, Athaliea started in fright. The boy—Ambrose—was in front of her, a short ways down the path. He didn't appear to notice her, and was crouched at the lake's bank, peering closely into the clear shallows. Arms still folded over her black dress, Athaliea approached him cautiously, brow slightly knit.

When she stood right behind him and he still hadn't noticed her presence, Athaliea spoke. "What are you doing?"

The boy stood slowly, turning to face her with large brown eyes. "Looking for mitooles."

"Mitooles?" Athaliea raised one eyebrow. "They don't live in fresh water, Ambrose."

He blushed, embarrassed both at being caught and at being corrected. "Adlai sent me to find you. He says the two of you'll talk later."

"That's better," Athaliea said. She sighed again and looked around. "Do you want to go for a walk?" she asked Ambrose after a pause.

He blinked. "All—all right."

"Come on, we'll go through the Mayze," she said, putting one arm around his shoulders.

The odd pair walked all through the twisting hedges that framed the outer entrance to Finaqua's Palace. Every now and then, Ambrose would supply a helpful remark about the flora and fauna they met along the way, as well as the animals. Athaliea found that, though she had refused company for month, and hadn't spoken to anyone but Adlai since her parents' death, she was not irritated by the presence of an exceedingly talkative boy of twelve annuals (he had corrected her assumption on his age). Indeed, she found she was smiling genuinely for the first time in a month, and enjoying his companionship. After they had turned back, and the suns were setting, a period of silence fell upon them.

"Princess?" Ambrose asked.

"Mm?"

"Why do you have to be married? I think you're right. You're only nineteen," he said.

"Oh. You heard me?"

"I think the Pahpay heard you." Athaliea laughed.

"Well, I suppose…it's tradition," she finished lamely. "I mean, every Queen has had a Consort."

"Dorothy—the Grey Gale? Hers was—"

"Fiyero of Quox, yes. My greatest great-grandfather, I suppose." Athaliea sighed. "It's not the idea of marriage though, really."

"What is it?" the boy asked.

"Well…you know, Ambrose," she said softly. "Most of my ancestors were lucky enough to find love. And if they didn't find it, they were content to a political marriage. Both situations have proven beneficial to the Zone in their own way, so I imagine it doesn't matter which you choose, but…I've always hoped to find love before I find marriage."

"You also weren't planning to assume the throne at nineteen annuals," Ambrose said. Athaliea looked at him. He sounded so wise. "Well, I agree with you. I think it's unfair to force you into an unwanted marriage."

Athaliea shook her head, her now loose curls swinging forth. "A Queen needs a consort, Ambrose. I have to do what's best for the OZ. True love doesn't fall from the sky."

"And what happens when you meet someone you do love?" Ambrose challenged, in a rather overassertive tone given his position. "I mean, you've just been saying how much you don't want to marry someone like that—for politics, or out of necessity. If you met the person you fell in love with, what would you do?"

"A political marriage is the best I've got at present, Ambrose," Athaliea said. "I don't give up hope, though. If a suitor comes along—well, we'll have to see what happens. A month is a long time."

"Hm," Ambrose answered, wrinkling his nose. They had reached the marble steps leading into the entrance hall. As they walked up to the door of the dining hall, a maid came out.

"Oh, Your Highness. Dinner is ready, but we couldn't find you," she said. "Do you want us to wait for you to wash up?"

"No thank you, Saree," Athaliea said. "I'll come now. Come on, Ambrose," she added to the boy who was hanging back, looking apprehensively at Adlai, who had appeared at the doorway to the dining room. Athaliea waved him forward.

"You have a charming apprentice, Sir," she told Adlai with a dazzling smile. "He's quite well-versed in many different areas. I wish him to join us for dinner this evening, and from now on." Ambrose's jaw dropped. Adlai's thick eyebrows shot up.

"As you wish, Your Highness," he said, looking bemused.


	2. A Storm

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

"So Lord Carmine is a no?" Ambrose asked, scratching a line in his paper with the pen.

Athaliea shuddered. "No. He's detestable," she said, sitting up. Ambrose sat cross-legged on their blanket, pen in hand and the guest list of the previous night's dinner party on his lap. "And not Lord Barcal, either. He reeked of clared wine only half an hour into the dinner. Not even an option," Athaliea told him.

"There's a surprise," Ambrose muttered under his breath. Athaliea shot him a look. "What about Gerald? The Earl?"

Athaliea sighed, lying back down. She plucked a daisy and twirled it in front of her eyes. "He was…all right. Deadly dull, but kind, certainly." Ambrose raised his eyebrows.

"High praise."

"Don't start with me. My head hurts. I feel like I drank as much as Lord Barcal, just from sitting next to him and breathing that foul stench." Athaliea dropped the daisy and closed her eyes, letting the suns warm her face. "Two weeks left."

"That's right," Ambrose said, sighing. "And the only suitors you haven't outright said no to are…Lord Jameson and Earl Gerald Fenay. Yes, this is going well."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I think I should probably somewhat like the man I marry!" Athaliea snapped, sitting up again. Instantly she felt guilty. Ambrose was so young, he couldn't be expected to know much about this. She softened. "I thought you'd want to help me. Adlai's not great at this sort of thing."

"No…Princess, I'm sorry. I just—it's frustrating," Ambrose said. Athaliea snorted in a very un-princess-like way.

"Try being on this end," she said, rubbing her eyes with her palms.

"It'll be all right, Thalie," Ambrose said gently, in a low enough voice that the nearby maid could not hear. Athaliea had permitted him the use of her first name on the grounds that she had sworn to marry him if no one else turned up, so he had better get to know her by her name. The fact was, she had grown dependent on the little boy who knew so much. He was more of an advisor to her than Adlai could be, though he was only twelve. She like Adlai, no mistake, but Ambrose was her confidant. She liked being able to trust her advisors with her feelings.

"Ugh!" Ambrose cried out, standing up suddenly. Athaliea looked up in surprise. The skies, which had been so crystalline blue minutes before, had turned a dark grey colour, suddenly filled with thick clouds. She felt a pebble strike her forehead. Looking down onto the blanket, she saw—hail.

Athaliea started laughing. Hail, in the middle of summer. "Ambrose! It's hailing!" Ambrose held his paper over his head and began to laugh, too. The maid came running over with an umbrella—what foresight, Athaliea thought—and covered them both. The little group made its awkward way back to the palace.

After three days, the weather had not relented. The bizarre hail had turned to icy rain. Nonstop, unremitting, inexorable rain. Athaliea watched it fall from her bedroom window. Curled in the window seat, with her favourite book in her lap, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass and looked up at the heavy grey clouds. They reflected her mood as of late. She remembered her mother, so suddenly that tears stung her eyes. On rainy days, she'd taken Athaliea in her lap and read her stories from the ancient tomes of faerie tales that filled shelves in the library.

Athaliea put her long, white fingertips on the glass. "Mother…" She closed her eyes, and a few tears trickled down her cheek, mirroring the rain on the other side of the glass. She'd been sitting here when Adlai called her downstairs nearly six weeks ago, to tell her that her mother and father had died.

She hadn't slept that night, either, just as she hadn't for the previous. Athaliea had a way of knowing when things were going to happen. She became nervous, couldn't sleep, and most importantly: her lavender eyes seemed almost to darken to a violet. Her father had always known when she knew what he didn't. She opened her eyes and smiled sadly at the memory.

A knock came at the door. "Come in," Athaliea called, cursing the crack in her voice and wiping her cheeks quickly. The door opened to admit Adlai and Saree. Athaliea stood up to meet him.

"Princess," he said. "I have good news. The Earl Gerald Fenay has officially extended his desire to marry you." Athaliea blinked.

"Oh—really?" she asked, surprised. "So soon?"

"I need hardly remind Your Highness that your coronation takes place in two weeks. A consort must be announced at—"

"Yes, I know," Athaliea cut him off, turning away and beating her open palm with her fingers.

"Princess, I know this is not what you had in mind…nor is it what we had ever planned for. This is difficult," Adlai said kindly. "Nonetheless, you are Queen in all but title. You should consider what would be best for your people. Alliance with Fenay can bring only good to the Zone."

Athaliea dropped her head, looking at her hands. "You're right," she admitted. "But may I have some time to consider? Please?" she asked, turning to face him with pleading eyes. Adlai considered her for a moment.

"Of course, Your Highness," he said in that same kind tone. He bowed and left the room, followed by Saree.

Athaliea dropped her head into her hands and turned back to the window. She sank down onto the seat and looked out over the lake. _This can't be happening. It's not _supposed _to be happening. I'm—_she sat up straight, suddenly realising that something outside the window had changed. Sunlight was peeking through the heavy clouds in weak beacons. The rain had abruptly stopped. She sighed; how she loved the OZ after a storm. Maybe Ambrose would go for a walk with her later.

As this thought occurred to her, she gazed out over the wet landscape; something caught her eye. Above the distant, dark blue mountains, still capped by the low, grey clouds, was a tiny speck of orange. She was mesmerised by the little dot's travel; how had it flown anywhere in the storm? More importantly, what was it? She glanced down onto the soaked lawn. Picking up a shawl, she marked the orange speck's position, and hurried downstairs, back through the kitchen, and out onto the lawn.

After several moments where she thought she had imagined the whole thing, Athaliea located the orange oddity, which had come closer, floating above the farthest edge of the lake. She watched its progress, frowning curiously; someone had to be flying it, its movements were smooth, and it was descending gradually.

"Princess?" Athaliea whipped her neck around to see Ambrose approaching her from the kitchen door. "What are you looking at?" he asked.

"Look," she pointed at the flying thing. "It looks like something coming in for a landing. It's far too big to be a bird or an animal. I think it's a—"

"It looks like a balloon," Ambrose said, nonplussed. "But—what?"

The orange mass was now over the lake, and both Ambrose and Athaliea could see that he was right: it was a bright orange balloon, with a wickerwork basket hanging by ropes beneath it.

"There's someone in it!" cried Ambrose suddenly. The balloon was descending more rapidly, heading for the lawn farthest from them. He started to run to where it seemed the balloon would land. Athaliea followed quickly. More people were coming out of the Palace. Maids, chefs, butlers—Adlai, too—were hurrying towards the gigantic balloon.


	3. The Slipper

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Athaliea could not help but watch this stranger from the hall of the Palace. He was young, and had long, blond hair, not to mention excellent good looks. She'd been shuffled away from the landing site by a burly guard moments ago. Now, Ambrose, and Adlai were talking to this stranger. Adlai's office door was open just enough for Athaliea to peer around her muscle-bound protector's arm and watch the boy—man—answer Adlai's questions in increasingly confused tones of voice.

"I will ask again. Where do you come from?" Athaliea heard the advisor ask. She flinched at what she found to be an overly accusatory manner.

"Omaha, Nebraska. I keep telling you, I was flying the balloon at the fair. I got caught in a storm, and now I don't know where I am," the stranger said.

"Do you mean Ohmain? East of the Kells?" Ambrose asked.

"Where? Is that in Virginia?" the man replied.

"Believe me, young man, we will know if you are a spy—or an enemy threat. It would be best for you if you came clean now," Adlai told him sharply. At this, Athaliea made a noise of disgust and stepped around the bodyguard. He put one hand out to stop her, but she quelled him with one of her famous glares and pushed open the door.

Ahamo looked around and his eyes widened instantly. Standing in the doorway was the loveliest girl he'd ever seen. This had to be a bizarre dream. Her curling hair fell about her shoulders, onto her dark dress, which accentuated the white opalescence of her skin. But her eyes—her eyes caught him at the second they met his—they were lavender. Not a debatable shade of grey, but purely lavender, just like the flower.

Athaliea almost stepped back as she looked into the man's eyes. Their clear blue was disarming, and she felt a flush creep instantly into her cheeks. "What is going on?" she forced herself to say. _Brilliant_._ He knows you were standing out there, probably_.

"Your Highness, we were—ah, greeting our newcomer," Adlai said, rising. "Perhaps you would rather wait—"

"No, I think I'd like to speak with him as well," Athaliea said, stepping forward but determinedly not meeting the strangers' eyes again.

"Very well," Adlai said, looking flustered, but moving so that she could take his seat. Taking a deep breath, Athaliea seated herself in what she hoped was a semblance of her mother's regal posture, and faced the stranger again. His mouth was slightly open.

"This," Adlai said, holding out his hand in Athaliea's direction, "is Her Royal Highness Athaliea Gale, Crown Princess of the Outer Zone."

"Princess," the man repeated softly, his eyes not leaving her face. Athaliea smiled in a bemused way, as Adlai frowned over the boy's lack of protocol in not standing when the princess had entered the room.

"Wait," the stranger seemed to wake up, snapping to attention. "The Outer Zone? What's the Outer Zone?" Athaliea's eyes widened. She looked momentarily at Ambrose and nodded. The boy appeared to be having her same thoughts, and stepped over to the bookcase, finding and pulling out a heavy leather-bound book.

"Tell me how you came here, please," Athaliea asked, fixing him with a stare that went right through him. He was no threat, she could tell immediately.

"I've been telling these two," the man began at once. "I was flying the balloon for Harvey, at the state fair in Omaha. I got up too high, and I couldn't find my way back down before a storm came up. I think it must have been a tornado down on the ground—the winds were so strong. Then, I—"

"A tornado?" Athaliea interrupted. Ambrose laid the book open in front of her and tapped a line on the page. _Travel storms are awakened in the Outer Zone when those in the Zone are desirous of reaching the Other Side. These phenomena are known by the Other Siders as 'tornados', 'cyclones', and 'twisters'. Travel storms are efficacious in hiding the presence of those from the OZ, as they can, frequently occur by accident on the Other Side. Furthermore, such naturally caused 'tornados', that is to say, not brought about by a Zonian, can work in a reverse effect. Where people of the Zone can travel to the Other Side in planned travel storms, Other Siders have been known to reach the Zone in their cyclones. It is known, for example, that Dorothy Gale I—_ from there, Athaliea knew the story. Could it be? Had a slipper come through? She pointed to the paragraph and passed the book to Adlai.

Leaning forward with her elbows on the desk, Athaliea narrowed her eyes and looked at the handsome young man in front of her. He met her gaze unfalteringly, and something inside her shivered, though she did her best not to blush again in the man's presence. After several moments of silence, where they both appeared to relax, she spoke.

"I do not think you are a threat," Athaliea said quietly. "But I need to know the absolute truth."

"That is the truth, I swear," the man answered. "I hit my head on the side of the basket while I was in the air. When I came to, I was floating over the lake here, and all these people were standing waiting for me on the ground."

Athaliea watched him for another moment, purely for the satisfaction of seeing his expressions change. Then, she turned to face Adlai. "He is not a danger. No—he is not to be questioned any further today. He needs a healer, and some rest," she said over Adlai's protests.

"Yes, Your Highness," the advisor said, bowing slightly. "Come, boy."

"My name's—"

"Yes, Ahoma or something, come along." And Adlai led the man from the room. As the door snapped shut, Athaliea snapped her attention to Ambrose.

"Is he a slipper?" she asked.

Ambrose was still watching the door where the man had just stood. "I think so, Thalie."

"I guess the Grey Gale isn't such a myth after all," Athaliea said. And her spine tingled up and down as she thought of the handsome young man's warm smile.


	4. Expected and Unexpected

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Two days later, Athaliea and Ambrose were sitting out in the gazebo near the lake.

"Have you given Adlai your answer for the Earl?" Ambrose asked her.

"I don't really want to talk about that, Ambrose." There was a long pause.

"Other things on your mind?" the boy asked lightly. Athaliea narrowed her eyes.

"Never you mind," she said in a low voice. Something caught her eye—Ahoma was walking along the edge of the lake, eating an apple. "Ambrose, could you go and find Adlai, actually, tell him I'll have his answer later tonight?" The boy raised his eyebrows. "Just go!" Athaliea said. Ambrose stood and left.

As soon as he was a fair distance up the lawn, Athaliea stood, smoothing her dress and trying to control the shiver that had just flooded her body. She took a few steps forward onto the gazebo's edge, so that she would be within the slipper's sight when he passed. Sure enough, he looked up and saw Athaliea watching him from the gazebo. Grinning slightly, he changed his course and walked towards the little platform, towards her smiling face.

He gave an awkward little bow when he reached her, blushing as he did so. Athaliea acknowledged it, then gestured to him to sit with her on the swing. He did, still watching her with that rapt expression that had so disarmed her in Adlai's office.

After a few moments of silence, Athaliea said, "You're known as Ahoma around here now."

"I wondered about that. I hear Ahamo, too. I like them both better than my real name, though," the slipper answered. "Maybe Ahamo's the best," he added.

"Well then, Ahamo. My advisors and I think we know how you came here. To the OZ, I mean," she continued. "A—'tornado', did you call it?—a tornado is known here as a travel storm. They've been used in the past to transport people of the Zone to the Other Side, where you're from. They work in the reverse way, occasionally. That's how the Gale house was established. I am descended from the first slipper."

"Slipper?" Ahamo asked.

"Someone who travels from the Other Side to the Outer Zone without magic," Athaliea told him. "I assume you have no magic?" she asked.

"M—magic? Is that what you were doing?" Ahamo asked, surprised.

"When?" Athaliea looked at him questioningly.

"Oh…uh, I was sort of watching you—in the garden, the other day. You were doing something with the flowers, but I thought it was a trick of the light," the boy said, reddening and looking away.

Athaliea blushed too, biting her lip. "Yes, that was magic," she told him. "I was watering them without a watering can," she added sheepishly. There was another long pause. "You really aren't from here," Athaliea said.

Ahamo looked up at her and shook his head. Suddenly he stood. "I—this whole thing feels so strange. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and be in my bed in the basement at my stepfather's house."

Not fully understanding what he had just said, Athaliea stood too, and put one hand on his arm. "You miss your family," she said sympathetically. He snorted.

"Not exactly." Athaliea looked at him confusedly. "They…well, I've never really been…they don't miss me, anyway."

Athaliea looked down. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Ahamo said instantly. "I have a feeling things are going to be a lot better here." He looked in her eyes again, making her whole body tingle.

Athaliea threw caution to the wind. She knew what she felt—her tingling fingertips said it all. "I think so too."

He looked stunned. "Now I know I'm being tricked," he said. "Princesses don't just say things like that to guys like me!" Ahamo called, leaving the gazebo. Athaliea opened her mouth in an annoyed way.

"Maybe not, but I do!" she half-shouted. He stopped in his tracks, not facing her. Suddenly, Ahamo turned back, coming closer. He looked straight into her eyes—she felt as though she were melting—and asked shortly:

"And what would you say if I told you I thought you were the most gorgeous girl I'd ever seen? Other Side or whatever included?"

Athaliea blinked. "I'd say…you're very forward."

"Didn't mean to offend," he answered sarcastically.

"Let me finish," she told him, putting her hands on her hips. "You're very forward. So am I."

Ahamo grinned. "May I sit, Highness?" he asked, with a mock bow. Athaliea arched an eyebrow, then nodded briefly. They sat again on the swing, to a few more moments of silence.

"So, er…are, uh, are you really going to be the Queen?" Ahamo asked.

Athaliea nodded. "My coronation is in—oh, a little more than a week," she said in surprise.

"But you're so young!" he answered.

"I don't have a choice."

"Why can't the Queen now stay queen?" Ahamo asked.

"Because she was my mother," Athaliea said harshly. Then she sighed. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude."

"Your mother's gone, too?" he asked softly. His tone made her look up into his eyes.

"Yes," Athaliea said. "She and my father, both. There was a fire in the Royal Embassy in Central City. Nearly everyone was killed."

"Oh," Ahamo whispered. "I'm so sorry," he told her as her eyes started to well up. She blinked twice.

"And your parents?" she asked.

"Never knew my father," said Ahamo. "My mom and stepfather raised me, until I was eleven. Then she got sick, and my stepfather took over after she died. He's not a great guy. That's what I meant when I told you my family won't miss me."

"How old are you?" Athaliea asked.

"Twenty. And yeah, I was living in my stepfather's basement," he answered with a slight smirk.

"I'm nineteen," she told him, knowing that he'd never ask.

Ahamo nodded. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," Athaliea teased, smiling.

He smiled back. "Who's the kid?" he asked, nodding at something over her left shoulder. Athaliea spun around. Ambrose stood some five metres away, shuffling his feet and looking uncomfortable. When she saw him, he widened his eyes and gestured to her. She nodded once.

"That's Ambrose," Athaliea explained, standing up.

"Brother?"

"Friend," Ahamo stood as well as she excused herself.

"What?" Athaliea hissed as she approached the boy.

"Adlai needs to see you," Ambrose answered. "_Now_."

Certain that no good was to come, Athaliea followed her friend to the Palace, but not before glancing back at the slipper who was still watching her from the gazebo.

* * *

So, I'm really very sorry. I believe in daily updates, and if my math is correct, I owe you four chapters. Please accept my apologies; hospital visits are no fun, especially when they tell you you're out of soccer (for my Americans, football for my Brits back home) AGAIN for a bloody long time because of a bleeding cracked kneecap. So yes, without the practices, you can expect more updates. Enjoy, all.

Fae


	5. History Lessons

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Ahamo and Athaliea found themselves walking the beach the next day, Ambrose wandering a short ways behind them. Athaliea was furious; her fingers seemed to crackle with electricity—or magic, Ahamo told himself. She was gorgeous when she was angry.

"He can't do this to me!" she said.

"Sounds like he has," Ahamo told her.

"You're not helping!" Athaliea snapped. "Ugh, I do _not_ want to marry that disgusting man!"

"I find it strange that you have to get married at all," he answered.

"I _told_ you, every Queen needs a consort."

"I know, I'm just saying that—"

"And the fact that it has to be that putrid, fat earl! It's ridiculous!"

"You didn't mind him last week," Ambrose said. Athaliea glared at him, and he backed away. Ahamo clapped him on the shoulder sympathetically.

"Why don't you give us a minute?" he asked the boy. Ambrose looked at him closely, but dashed ahead further down the beach to examine the ecosystem of the shallows. Athaliea crossed her arms.

"You said it yourself, Highness," Ahamo told her. "Every Queen needs a consort."

She gave a derisive laugh. "Better Ambrose than the Earl." Athaliea paused and looked into his eyes, as their clear blue numbed her yet again. Again, she felt that terrifying recklessness she could not name and reached suddenly for Ahamo's hand. He did not flinch, but still she looked quickly away and dropped his hand.

"I'm sorry," Ahamo said quietly. "I wish there was something I could do."

"Me too," Athaliea told him.

However, after four days of trying to help the princess, Ahamo and Ambrose had come up with no way of getting her out of the marriage into which Adlai had pressed her. They at least hoped to delay the announcement of a consort at the coronation in four days. Ahamo quickly learned a lot of the Zone's history by assisting Ambrose to look through for a precedent where the Queen had ruled without a consort.

So far, he had learned that every queen of the OZ since Dorothy Gale I had had at least one daughter, and that the name Gale passed in a matrilineal way. Some had had firstborn sons, but the rule always fell to the oldest daughter, even if she was the youngest of nine children, as was the case with Queen Zara II. Also, he had learned where Athaliea's magic came from. Dorothy Gale I had been given her magic after she had crossed to the Zone by Galinda, an Ancient sorceress. Dorothy had passed her magic through her bloodline.

The Ancients, also known as the rulers before Dorothy, had accepted her as their Queen when she helped Galinda vanquish an evil witch, even before she had received her magic. When she had grown up (Ahamo was shocked to discover that the book described as "a child of thirteen annuals"), she was granted full rule of the Outer Zone, and married a man named Fiyero, presumably a lord from Quox, a neighbouring country, though not much was known about this man. Ambrose kept saying he was certain there had to be a book of Quoxian history in the library somewhere, though Ahamo had no idea how he would try to find it in the vast expanse of shelves.

Every time Ahamo learned something else about the Zone, he felt closer to Athaliea. _No_, he told himself. _Don't go there_. _She's not for you, no way_. Still, when he had told Athaliea of their bad luck earlier that day, seeing her face fall had made him resolve not to give up. If he couldn't be with her, then she would at the very least not have to marry someone else. Now, he and Ambrose sat in the library. It was nearly midnight, and they had long since deserted the welcome dinner for the earl, Gerald Fenay of Fliaan. He was young-ish, as Ambrose put it; thirty, perhaps, but pockmarked and doughy, with pudgy hands, dark, greasy hair, and an unnecessarily loud and frequent laugh. Adlai had ensured that the earl spent every moment of the dinner with the princess, much to Ahamo's chagrin. The advisor, in return, had spent his time eyeing Ahamo beadily, especially when the slipper spoke to Ambrose.

"He really is disgusting, isn't he?" Ahamo asked.

Ambrose jerked awake. "The earl? I guess," he mumbled, drifting off again.

"I mean, the way he kept looking at her all through dinner. Like he'd never seen a woman before," Ahamo said grouchily.

"Mm," Ambrose answered, opening his eyes and pulling a book of the Zone's laws before him, obviously forgetting that he'd already looked at it.

"I mean, if I—" Ahamo was cut off by the sound of the library door opening. Adlai appeared in the doorway.

"Are you two still awake?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Ambrose said, standing up quickly to hide the law book behind him. "Our, uh, guest wanted to continue with his study of the Zone's history."

"At such an hour?" Adlai asked gently, watching the boy.

"It was my idea," Ahamo said. "I wasn't sure if I would have time tomorrow, and we stopped at such an interesting place this afternoon before the Earl arrived." The way Adlai was now eyeing him made Ahamo suspicious and nervous at the same time.

"Speaking of the earl," Adlai began, taking another step forward. "I was hoping to ask something of you both. Oh, stop that, boy, I know what you've been up to!" he snapped suddenly at Ambrose, who had been trying to surreptitiously close the book. "And actually, this is not a request. You should both know that the princess' marriage is none of your concern. Therefore, you are to stop your moonlighting detective work and leave this wedding alone. The earl will be married to the princess, and be Prince Consort of the Zone. This is what will be best for the Outer Zone, even if our headstrong young princess does not realise it yet; Fliaan brings in more cash crops than Quox and Ix combined. Stay out of it," Adlai said in a dangerous voice, putting his face right next to Ambrose's. "An ungrateful child and a slipper will not interfere with the advancement of the OZ." And the man turned to leave the library.

"How much is he paying you?" Ahamo called angrily. Adlai stopped in the doorway.

"That hardly matters," he answered softly. Ambrose watched his mentor in shock.


	6. A CounterPlot

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Over the next two days, Ahamo moved their "detective work" to his room. It was small, true, but private; it was situated farthest from offices and other bedrooms. Ambrose had to try and stick by Adlai at all times, and try to get poor Athaliea alone, separated from the earl, which was proving increasingly impossible. Adlai had covered his bases, insisting that a bodyguard follow the two wherever they went; if the earl was nowhere to be found, it was Adlai who was with her, keeping her informed on every detail of her coronation ceremony.

Now, again after midnight, opening the book of OZian law for what felt like the hundredth time, Ahamo turned the pages to the descriptions of the Queen's power. He read the first paragraph, then wiped the page and reread the last sentence concerning the consort's title. The smudge above the Prince Consort's manner of appointment had not disappeared. Ahamo looked more closely, holding the book up in front of his nose. It wasn't a smudge—it was a star. He quickly flipped to the back of the book, hoping to see something along the lines of an index. Turning each page carefully, he looked at easily thirty denotations from the laws in the book before spotting one with a microscopic star, at the very bottom of the page and marred by a water stain. He read it very carefully, then started to laugh. Ahamo leapt up, and quickly copied down the code number and the law it applied to, then the denotation itself.

"I've got you, you bastard!" he shouted to his empty room.

The next morning, Ahamo woke up early despite his tiredness, dressed quickly, and hurried upstairs to the hall where he knew Athaliea's room was. He could not believe what he was about to do (no matter how much he desperately wanted to do it), and paced nervously up and down the landing of the stairs, almost knocking over Ambrose as he came up.

"Oh, Ahamo," Ambrose said quickly. "I've been looking for you. I—Athaliea's not here," he added, frowning at Ahamo.

"What?" he asked.

"No, they left early for the rehearsal, remember?"

"Son of a—"

"It's okay!" Ambrose interrupted. "I think I've figured out how to get her alone tonight, if you're up for it."

"Good, because I've found a bylaw that's going to change that stupid earl's tune," Ahamo answered. _If it works,_ an unwanted thought reminded him.

"Really?" Ambrose asked incredulously.

"What, didn't think I could do it?"

"No, it's just…I'm impressed, slipper," Ambrose said. Ahamo made a face at him. "What is it?"

"You'll find out later, kid. What's your plan? We need to coordinate this."

"Yeah, you're lucky I can fake the flu, or you wouldn't have me here to help," Ambrose told him. "Adlai was going to take me, too. The princess talked him out of it."

"The plan, Ambrose," Ahamo said.

"Oh, right. It's simple enough, actually. Holl, the head of security? He's devoted to the princess, because her mother gave him his job. He's going to trip the intruder alarms tonight for me. Now, there are two safety rooms; one for the Royal Family and one for the Palace workers. Tonight, Holl is going to 'mislead' the earl and Adlai to the Palace workers' room. By the time they've realised where they've gone, and that the princess isn't with them, we'll be locked down and you'll be able to tell her what's going on."

"And where are you going to be?"

"Outside with Holl. You'll have exactly twelve minutes, which is how long it takes for security to sweep the Palace and clear the grounds. I'm going to make sure Adlai can't leave his room while Holl's taking the Palace off lockdown."

"Twelve minutes," Ahamo repeated. Ambrose nodded. "That's more than enough time." _I hope_.


	7. Lavender Eyes

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Athaliea gave a borderline sarcastic smile, which she was sure the earl didn't notice, at the joke he had just made. She then returned to stabbing at her dinner in a moody way, while Earl Gerald Fenay of Fliaan rambled on with his tales of noran hunting in the forests of his home country. Adlai shifted his position a little and cleared his throat. She imperceptibly rolled her eyes and looked at him. The earl, seated to her right, was clearly comfortable enough chatting away without her input; this she told Adlai without words. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

Sighing quietly, Athaliea took the earl's distraction with his story to wonder where Ambrose—and Ahamo—were. She hoped Ambrose was feeling better. After all, they were the ones she wanted to be with on the eve of her coronation, not this man she had to announce her—she shuddered—engagement to the next morning. As she gave another half-hearted laugh at a pause in the rambling man's story, she heard shouting outside the private dining room's door. It sounded like Ambrose. Suddenly, the door burst open, and Andres Holl, the enormous head of Royal Security ran in, followed by another guard.

"Your Highness," he said. "We've had an alarm go off in the southwest entrance. We must remove you to the safe room immediately."

Athaliea stood. "Where are—"

"I'm sorry, Highness, there's no time," Holl interrupted. "Please, come with me. Calban will take the earl and your advisor," he said, nodding to the equally large security guard next to him. Athaliea opened her mouth again. "Please, Your Highness," Holl asked, with such a pleading look she could not refuse. She knew he wanted to amend for his absence in the Embassy fire—it was the only time he had not travelled with her parents. She nodded and took his hand.

"Calban, wait for me to go, then follow with these two," Holl growled to his associate.

"Yes, sir," Calban responded.

"Come along, Princess," Holl said to Athaliea. He led her down the corridor, watching everything carefully, and down the flight of steps, where they passed a group of guards heading to the upper floors to sweep the area. "Nothing yet, sir!" one called as they passed.

Under the stairs, Holl pressed his palm onto the sliding panel, causing it to slide in to the left and reveal a cellar, wherein the Royal Family would be protected in the event of an intrusion of the grounds. "I'll be back in nine minutes if all is well, Princess," he said as she entered the room, and sealing the panel again before she could protest.

Athaliea turned to face the room, wondering where Ambrose could possibly be—not to mention Ahamo, and Adlai, and the earl. They should be in here with her, and the panel should not have been sealed until they were. Suddenly she heard a noise from the room full of bunks that adjoined the supply room. Athaliea backed against the farthest wall and started to focus her magic, prepared to attack who or whatever was preparing to attack her first.

Ahamo stepped out from behind the wall. "Going to put me under a spell?" he asked. Athaliea let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Don't _do_ that," she told him, annoyed.

Ahamo glanced at his wristwatch. Time to cut to the chase. "Look, Princess, we've got about six minutes before your advisor friend comes in—you need to know he's been planning this whole thing. The marriage to this earl, the alliance with Fliaan. It's all Adlai's plan—Fliaan is bribing him, he admitted it!"

Athaliea looked stunned. Was the slipper lying?

No. Something in those crystalline eyes told her he would never lie to her. "But what can I do?" she asked, throat dry.

Ahamo seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and some surprise. Then he reddened slightly, and mumbled, "I found something that may help."

Athaliea shivered again, looking straight into those eyes that melted her. "Yes?" she pushed gently when he did not continue.

He pressed a tightly folded square of paper into her hand. "This law annuls all previous arrangements—only if you agree." Athaliea's hands shook a little while opening the scrap of parchment that felt as though Ahamo had been clenching it in his fist for hours.

_Princess Athaliea—_

_I mean what I said: you are the most beautiful girl of any side I've ever been to. What I didn't say was that you have had my heart since the second I saw you. I want to be with you, if you'll have me. I want to remove you from this situation, by presenting you with this other path that begins and ends with me. Ambrose helped me find a book of the OZ's laws. Article IX, Sections II-IV talk about the Queen's necessary ruling implements. A consort is there, just as you said, but there is an addendum to the section that describes the consort's position and how he is chosen if the Queen does not choose her own._

'_The appointment or arrangement for the marriage of a Queen to a suitable consort shall occur when, and only when, the Queen has made no provision of her own for a Prince Consort. Consequently, the Queen is not subject to arranged marriage laws, previously planned or otherwise, if she takes measures of her own accord.' OZ Law: Article IX, Section III (add.)_

_I know I may not be the 'suitable' consort the law mentions—but it doesn't say that the Queen's choice must be 'suitable.' What I do know is that I will never let you down, and that the tingle I feel in my stomach when I see you will never go away. Just remember; you will be a great Queen no matter who you choose, because you know what the OZ needs, and what makes it thrive. I can't help but love you._

_Yours, if you like,_

_The 'Slipper'_

Athaliea finished reading and looked into Ahamo's eyes again; her spine quivered. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes!" And throwing aside the minute scrap of control she'd barely held on to after the second sentence of the note, Athaliea leapt into Ahamo's open arms, wrapping herself around him and pressing her lips to his in a passionate kiss.

"I love you, I love you too," Athaliea said in his ear. "You've had me, too, right from the start, and you always will."

"I belong with you," Ahamo answered.

"And I with you," Athaliea told him, pressing another kiss upon him. "Thank you, thank you for this."

Ahamo looked a little punch-drunk. "Anytime, Your Highness."

"It's Athaliea, now," she said gently, as he lowered her to the ground and kissed her forehead, his arms still around her.

"A—" Ahamo was interrupted by three loud bangs, and the door of the safe room swinging open. Holl stood there, looking sheepish, next to Adlai and Earl Fenay, who was opening and closing his mouth in a fishlike manner. Adlai held a triumphant-looking Ambrose by the ear.

"Sir!" Athaliea cried, stepping back from Ahamo. "Release him at once!" she ordered Adlai. The advisor scowled, but did as he was bidden and Ambrose ran immediately to stand with Ahamo and Athaliea.

"Your Majesty, this alarm was a plot, to—" Adlai began.

"I know perfectly well what it was," Athaliea cut him off coldly, her lavender eyes darkening with her tone. "And I am glad that it happened, because if it hadn't, I would never have found out your betrayal." Adlai's mouth opened, but no sound came out. "You were my mother's most trusted counsel," Athaliea said quietly. "Why would you do this to her daughter? For money? That is base, absolutely intolerable. And you make no effort to deny it? Earl?"

Neither man said anything under the furious princess' fierce gaze.

"Earl Fenay, I apologise if you were misled in the true reasons for you coming here, but I wish you to leave my house tonight. Make your necessary arrangements. Mr. Holl will be more than glad to assist you," Athaliea told the earl, who looked apprehensively at the enormous man next to him.

"Thank you, Your Highness," he managed to stammer out, before bowing and leaving with Holl.

"Adlai," Athaliea said at last, fixing the advisor with a stony gaze. "You—"

"Your Highness, I will leave as well," Adlai mumbled.

"No, you will not." The man looked at her, surprised, as did Ahamo and Ambrose. Athaliea ignored them, knowing she was making the right choice. "You are to remain here, where I can see you, to train _my_ advisor," she said, laying a hand on Ambrose's shoulder. The boy's face lit up. "You may consider yourself under house arrest. The most counsel you shall provide is to Ambrose—and both of us will know if you are trying to manipulate your situation. When he is of age, we will discuss your situation again. Please make any necessary changes to your office."

Adlai turned a threatening shade of magenta and raised his hand as if to speak, but Ahamo stepped forward, placing his fingers on Athaliea's wrist. He felt a slight shiver of cold through his hand, and looked down to see that her magic was lighting her fingertips.

"Yes, Your Highness," the disgraced advisor spat angrily. And he turned roughly on his heel, bumping into the brawny chest of Calban, Holl's counterpart, who bowed solicitously and followed Adlai from the room.

A small smile of triumph worked at the corners of Athaliea's mouth. She spun around and planted another kiss on Ahamo's surprised lips. Ambrose rolled his eyes and left the room as well.

"You'll always have me, Lavender Eyes," Ahamo whispered. She closed her eyes and pressed her face into his warm chest.


	8. Happy Birthday to You

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

"Presenting Her Royal Highness, Queen Athaliea Galinda Gale I, Twelfth Queen of the Outer Zone, and her Prince Consort."

Over a month since the wedding, nearly three since the coronation, and neither could get over their new titles. It still made Ahamo's head spin to wake up beside the beautiful woman now holding his hand and remember he was married to her. Not once had he doubted his decision, and his love for Athaliea had grown by the day.

The ball tonight was in honour of Athaliea's twentieth birthday. All the nobles of the Outer Zone were collected to celebrate with her. Ambrose, in his newly acquired apparel befitting a royal advisor, had just announced their descent to the silent ballroom. Athaliea smiled radiantly at all the guests lined on the stairs; she looked especially lovely tonight, Ahamo noted. Her dress was a silvery grey, starred like the night sky with tiny silver sparkles, and carried a train that flowed gracefully behind her. The crown in her dark curls swept on top of her head glittered, matching the dress' starlets. The lavender eyes were sharp and bright, smiling with their gorgeous owner.

Ahamo had forced himself to become quickly acquainted with the attire expected of the Prince Consort. He wore a dark grey jacket with silver brocade fastenings and epaulets. When he had the chance, he wore less ornate clothing, but he found he had no issue with dressing up to be at an event with Athaliea. Tonight was special to her, he knew. The Mystic Man would be in attendance, and she had long wished to meet him.

Ambrose, who had followed the royal couple down the stairs, darted ahead now, and by the time Ahamo and Athaliea had reached the bottom of the steps, he had returned followed by a short man with dark hair and moustache. Athaliea's face lit up.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness," Ambrose said, bowing. "May I present the Mystic Man?"

Athaliea held out one hand to the man. He kissed it, bowing as well. He then turned to bow to Ahamo, who returned the gesture. "I wish you every happiness, my Queen," he told Athaliea.

"Thank you, sir," Athaliea answered. "I've been hoping for some time to meet you. Would you sit with us at the dinner? My husband and I would be thrilled to speak with you."

"I would be honored, my lady," the Mystic Man said graciously.

"Mr. Ambrose? Would you see that our guest is properly situated?" Athaliea asked the boy. He smiled and left to find a waiter.

Athaliea danced many times throughout the evening, and then sat down to dinner with her guests. It was then that Ahamo noticed something amiss. She took—and he counted—only five bites of the food laid before her, one of each course. No one seemed to notice but him, and Athaliea was skillful at avoiding his watchful gaze, seemingly enthralled with the Mystic Man's conversation.

After the meal had ended, more couples got up to dance, but Athaliea didn't. The Mystic Man bade the royal couple farewell, to return to the nearby town with his tin men before leaving for Central City the next morning. Ahamo leaned in to her before she could be engaged in discussion again.

"Do you feel all right?" he whispered.

"I'm wonderful," she smiled, and turned away to speak to another guest saying goodbye. Ahamo sighed. When would she learn, he didn't give up that easily? He followed her closely the rest of the night, keeping one hand in hers or at her back at all times, which he knew would drive her mad.

And, it worked. At long, long last, the royal couple retired to their apartments, and Athaliea whirled around to face him as he closed the door.

"What on _earth_ is wrong with you?" she demanded, folding her arms.

"Me? What's wrong with you? You didn't eat anything at dinner, and don't pretend you weren't in the bathroom getting sick this mo—" Ahamo froze. Athaliea raised her eyebrows in a _'get it now?'_ way. Inside her husband's brain, a hundred things clunked into place. "What—what's the date?" he asked.

"The eighth. It should have been over a week ago," Athaliea answered, starting to smile again.

"Re—really? You're—"

She nodded, biting her lip. Ahamo gave a shout of laughter and moved closer to her, laying one hand on her stomach, and kissing her forehead. A happy tear slid down Athaliea's cheek as she wrapped her arms around her husband's neck.

* * *

In an effort to elicit some more reviews, which I've lately found to be my crack, I am going to put out my first plea for those marvellous little e-mails I so love to see! Please, oh please, may I have your input?

Fae


	9. Golden Afternoon

So I don't typically like to put my Author Notes (when I write them) at the beginning of my chapters, but I just wanted to let you all know that this is, I think, one of my favourite chapters I've ever written, in any of my stories, fanfic or otherwise. Please, it would mean so much if I got more than two reviews. Really, truly, if you only stop in for this one chapter, it would make my writing so much more meaningful to me. Thank you.

Fae

* * *

Chapter Nine

Ambrose was coming home from a three-month conference in the capitol offices in Central City. It was regarding Zonian relations with Fliaan, which had need of some smoothing over after their Prime Minister was sacked for bribing the first advisor to the Zone's Queen. A long investigation had followed the Queen's registered complaint with the Fliaanian government, and had ended with Prime Minister Khayle's interrogation. As it had been Ambrose's political debut, Adlai had gone as well so that the boy would not be ignored because of his age. When they left, the older man was under strict orders to do everything he could to ensure that the OZ was heard—through Ambrose only.

Athaliea had not gone—she was needed for the immediate problems that arose in the country. She kept daily contact with Ambrose via telewire, giving instructions and weighing in on the more important issues. Besides, she felt certain that her morning sickness would not be welcome at the conference; politicians in the capitol offices did not appreciate tardiness. Every time she'd spoken with her young friend, Athaliea had been impressed by how mature he sounded—it seemed as though Adlai was not as necessary as she'd once thought him in Ambrose's training. It was hard for her to remember sometimes that Ambrose was barely thirteen.

Ahamo and Athaliea had not shared their news with Ambrose or Adlai before they had left, only a week after they themselves had found out. So, while everyone in the Palace, as well as those citizens who came to a recent Reception, knew (Athaliea's belly was showing at just over four months), Ambrose would be caught by surprise; Athaliea knew he wouldn't be paying attention to much local news while he was working. The Palace healer was concerned with the amount of time she spent on her feet, and often chastised her for not sitting as often as she should.

_He can't say anything now,_ she thought. She was reading a report from the northern border guards, stretched out on a sofa in the sitting room of her apartments, one hand absentmindedly resting on her stomach. Ahamo was bringing her tea—wonderful man—and Athaliea was taking an easy day to relax a bit. There was gentle knock on the door, and Ahamo opened it, his other arm laden with a tea tray. She smiled as he walked in and dragged a table and chair close to her seat. Maneuvering herself awkwardly into a better position, Athaliea kissed him while he poured the tea. He put down the pot and kissed her pink cheek in return.

"How are we today?" Ahamo asked both his wife and her growing belly. The former laid her hands gracefully over his as he touched her stomach.

"Absolutely wonderful," Athaliea told him as he ran one hand up and down her side, which he knew she loved. Right on cue, she gasped and wrapped her arms around him as he reached her ribcage. "You know," she murmured in his ear, "if you keep this up, there won't be any of me left to welcome Ambrose home."

"He knows where he lives," Ahamo answered, moving onto the sofa next to her.

An hour later, the two royals were curled together on top of the bedcovers in their room. Athaliea's head rested on Ahamo's chest, hands raised almost protectively over the dress covering her belly. She was asleep, with Ahamo listening to her breathing when Saree came to tell them through the door that the advisors had returned from Central City.

"Thank you," he answered softly. He smirked at the look that was probably on the maid's face outside in their sitting room. He looked down at the sleeping exquisiteness. Her hair caught the sunlight filtering through the window in little gold lights. She was the most glorious pregnant woman he'd ever seen. He chuckled at the thought; not a thing was out of place about her. Ahamo sighed, not wanting to wake her when she looked so comfortable, but he knew he would pay if he didn't.

He kissed the top of her head, rubbing her arm. "Thalie," he said quietly. She stirred slightly. "Thalie, love," Ahamo nudged her. "Ambrose is home."

Athaliea opened her perfect lavender eyes. "Hmm?"

"Don't you want to see Ambrose? Saree says he's just come home," Ahamo told her. She smiled, hugging his chest.

"All right."

"You didn't look like that when I left," Ambrose said the second he saw Athaliea enter her office with Ahamo. Adlai raised his eyebrows in surprise. She smiled at Ambrose and opened her arms. He sighed, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation as he hugged her. "I leave you two alone for a couple of weeks…" Ahamo laughed and clapped the boy on the shoulder.

"Congratulations, You Majesty," Adlai said kindly. Athaliea thanked him. For all his faults, he was a caring man. "And to you, Your Highness," he said to Ahamo, shaking his hand. Calling Ahamo 'Your Highness' still seemed a bitter pill for Adlai.

Athaliea moved around the desk and sat as gracefully as she could. "What did the Ambassadors have to say? Are our relations with Fliaan damaged?" she asked, carefully not looking at Adlai.

"Not…irreparably, Majesty," said Ambrose, sitting opposite her. "I made it clear that we hold in no way the King Jerrold or the Fliaanians responsible for Prime Minister Khayle's actions. Just as you said, there are some hard feelings among the nobility tied closest to Fenay, but they'll soon be all right, and aren't much of an issue at present."

Ahamo looked shocked. Who knew a thirteen year old had that much authority? Apparently, the kid knew the OZian periodic table in order, which was about four times the size of the one he'd forgotten in grade school. He had likened Ambrose once to Bobby Fischer, but no one had gotten his analogy; he had swiftly dropped the matter.

"What's important is that Jerrold won't cut off any ties to the Zone," Athaliea said, folding her hands on top of the desk.

"Oh, no," Ambrose told her. "I don't think so. He seemed angrier with Khayle. Signs indicate that Khayle was actually embezzling the money to fund Fenay, and acting of his own accord. There were Viewers involved, I'm told."

Athaliea nodded. "Then we may continue to trust the king. Have they named the Prime Minister standing in for the rest of Khayle's term?"

"Yesterday, just after we left, they announced that Alberic Ghole would stand in. A dispatch caught up with us near Riverton," Ambrose said.

"Ghole is a good man," Athaliea answered, and her advisor nodded. She sighed lightly. "Anything else?" Ambrose thought for a moment.

"Nothing comes to mind," he said. She smiled.

"Thank you, both," she added to Adlai, who nodded courteously. "I suggest you both take a rest, get cleaned up. You're probably tired." Athaliea stood and dismissed the two, one hand on her stomach. Ambrose followed Adlai from the office, but not before waving at Athaliea and Ahamo as the door snapped shut.

"Have I ever told you that your queenly manners madden me?" Ahamo asked, putting his arms around Athaliea and kissing her.

She turned to face him and returned the kiss. "And you just generally madden me, slipper," she said.

"I love you, Lavender Eyes," he said. Only Ahamo called her that.

"I love you, too," she answered.


	10. The Consort's Duty

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Ahamo had sealed the two of them in their apartments after Athaliea had walked out of Reception. In truth, she had felt that she would be sick, which unnerved her; she had not had morning sickness in months, and the baby was already two weeks overdue by both hers and the healer's math.

Ahamo cancelled the day's Reception and returned to their sitting room, to find his wife curled on the sofa. "Did you throw up, sweetheart?" he asked her. Her eyes filled with tears as she nodded and wrapped her arms around her enormous belly.

"What's wrong with me?" she whispered.

"Nothing," he answered. "The little heir to the OZ just isn't ready yet."

Athaliea chuckled weakly and nodded. "Do you think they can wait on me for today? I really can't do anything in this state," she said.

"I'll take care of everything. Give me ten minutes," Ahamo told her.

He made quick rounds—security, Ambrose, Adlai, and maids were all warned to steer clear of the royal suites unless they were called upon. Then he went to the kitchens, and had them make up every one of Athaliea's favourite foods that he could think of. Thanking his stars that it was a light day as far as appointments, Ahamo made his way back to their apartments, followed by two kitchen staff members.

"Wait here," he mouthed, and opened the door, carrying in his own heavily laden tray. He then reappeared, taking theirs and dismissing them.

Several hours later, Athaliea was much happier, changed out of her heavy gown and into her nightdress. She popped another chocolate-dipped strawberry into her mouth. Ahamo passed her a champagne flute filled with zelberry juice. Smiling, she took a dainty sip and put the glass on the table next to her. Ahamo put his hand on his wife's stomach.

"No—here," she corrected him, moving his hand to another spot. It jumped, startling him, but he smiled nonetheless. Athaliea sighed. "Did you know that you are perhaps the most wonderful husband I've ever had?" she asked.

"Glad to know it," Ahamo told her. He looked around at the cast-off remnants of their all-day cloistering. "I feel bad for the maids," he said. Athaliea looked guilty.

"We can at least set it all up for them to get rid of it more easily," she said, looking at him innocently.

"Oh, you mean me," Ahamo said, feigning offence.

"Well _I_ certainly can't bend over—"

"No, no, I understand completely," he said, in perfect dramatic martyrdom. He gave a heavy sigh. "It's all right." He winked at her as he stacked the three trays. Athaliea smiled back at him.

"Shall we retire, my prince?" she asked, holding out her hands delicately.

Ahamo helped her to her feet, and she took his arm back to their bedroom. As they lay together, her head comfortable in the crook of his shoulder, Athaliea whispered, "Thank you."

"Anytime, heart," Ahamo answered.

"I love you," she said, and she fell asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat in her right ear.

* * *

A little Athaliea/Ahamo fluff for my dear Future ADA. I might as well have just called this chapter 'Pillow', no? Hope you enjoyed. Two updates tomorrow, won't that be fun? Just in honour of me having no school! Oh, and in a response to a message I received; Athaliea's name is ah-TAW-lee-uh. And ten points if you can guess who I named Adlai for, like my messager did.

Fae


	11. The Crown Princess

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Athaliea yelled again. "If my husband's out there, you tell him I hate him!" she snapped at the midwife as the contraction receded. Her belly, which looked even more inflated when she lay on her back, gave another heave. The healer looked apprehensively at the Queen, whose clenched fingers were again sparking with her magic.

"Majesty, you must try to calm yourself—"

"Right!" she spat. She knew he was right, but this was _painful_. Closing her eyes and taking another deep breath, she tried to recall the previous evening.

Ahamo sat in the hallway, rubbing his face hard with his hands. He checked his watch. 6:30 in the morning. A little over two hours ago, Athaliea had woken him up.

"Ahamo," she'd hissed. "Ahamo, it's time."

He'd mumbled something incoherent and she'd whacked his back with a pillow. Ahamo had finally stuck his head up to see Athaliea sitting cross-legged (something she never did) on the mattress next to him. He'd known then that she was serious, and run to find Garner, the healer. She was moved to the room they had set up for the birth, and had spent the last two hours cursing Ahamo.

He certainly admired her grit; it sounded excruciating, and found he was glad for that reason that men (excepting the healer, if he was male) were not allowed in the royal chamber during the birth. Initially, Ahamo had fought to be allowed in the room when his child was born, but, to his dismay, had had no success.

Now, he was waiting outside, hearing snatches of Garner trying to calm the Queen and her yells as contractions came. Ambrose came up the stairs and sat next to Ahamo on the bench, yawning. "The meeting with the I-I-Ixian Ambassador is c-c-cancelled," he said, yawning again. "Though I'm sure we'll have hell to pay for it." Ahamo nodded as Athaliea could be heard to groan again. Ambrose raised his eyebrows.

"Isn't that nice?" he asked. Ahamo didn't react. "Oh, she's all right. If something's wrong, they'll come and get you," Ambrose told him. Something seemed to relax in Ahamo's face.

"What should we do?" he asked the boy.

Ambrose stood up. "I have work to do, but I'll be back in half an hour to check on you both. You wait here."

"Hey, wait," Ahamo called as Ambrose started to descend the stairs. "Do you think you could bring me some paper—and pencils?" Ambrose nodded.

At ten o'clock, four hours later, the door to the Queen's room opened. Garner's red, smiling face appeared. "Your Highness?" he asked. Ahamo looked up from his drawing, and his face slowly broke into a smile as he stood. The healer admitted him into the room, and then went to the kitchens to bring some water for the Queen. Athaliea lay in the bed, looking tired, dazed, and proud.

"Oh, love," Ahamo said, going immediately to her side and kissing her damp face.

"You have a daughter, Your Highness," the midwife said, moving forward, with a tiny, wriggling bundle of pink blankets.

"A daughter," he said, taking the baby from her arms and laying her between his and Athaliea's heads. Athaliea turned to look at the baby girl.

"She hasn't cried yet," Athaliea said. "And her eyes were open when she came out, Garner said."

Ahamo looked into the dark eyes of the little princess. "Her eyes are brown," he said in wonder.

"My mother's were, too," Athaliea told him.

Ahamo looked into the little face, fascinated. "She needs a name. Is there a family name you like?" he asked. Athaliea thought, placing her fingertip in the baby's tiny hand.

"We could call her Dorothy."

"No," Ahamo said. "She's no Dorothy."

"Well," Athaliea said slowly. "There's always the Ancients' language. What about the words for 'open eyes?'"

"What are they?" he asked.

"Ascka, eyes. Dellia, open. We could change the spelling of ascka."

"Ascka, dellia," Ahamo repeated. He turned to the midwife, still standing in the corner. "Please tell the royal advisor we have a daughter." He looked at Athaliea, who faced the midwife.

"Princess Azkadellia May Gale," she supplied. "Just tell him ascka has a 'z' instead of an 'sc', he'll understand." The midwife curtsied, smiling at them both, and went to find Ambrose.

Ahamo turned to face his wife. "May?" he asked, voice dry. He'd only once before told Athaliea his mother's name.

"It's another family name I like," Athaliea answered. "Just not from my side."

He smiled and pressed his head close to hers, both of them looking into the decidedly brown eyes of their little girl.

* * *

So this chapter made me just so happy, I couldn't resist posting it as soon as I could. This is a nod to my older sister's birth; it's almost exactly what my parents said to each other in the hospital room. I love you, 'Coley.

Fae


	12. Reception

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

_Four and a half annuals later…_

"Az! Azkadellia!" Ahamo called. The little brown-haired girl poked her head up in his direction.

"Daddy!" she shrieked gleefully, running immediately towards him and leaping into his arms. Ambrose stood up from his position on the ground, where he'd been crouched with Azkadellia, dusting himself off. He started to walk towards them as Athaliea approached behind Ahamo, who was now tossing his daughter above his head to her intense delight.

Ambrose, now seventeen annuals, embraced the Queen warmly. "How was it?" he asked. She nodded, linking one arm in his and laying a hand on her four-month belly. She started to speak, but was interrupted by Azkadellia's descent back to earth and her subsequent dash to her mother.

"Mama!" she cried, hugging her mother's leg. The Queen bent awkwardly and hoisted the little princess to her hip.

"Hello, my darling," Athaliea said affectionately, smothering Azkadellia's face with kisses as the little girl giggled.

"Stop it, Mama," she said playfully.

"No, you stop it, Azzie," Athaliea answered, rubbing her nose against her daughter's. "Have you been good?"

"I mist you," she said in a serious tone, looking straight at her mother.

"Oh, I missed you too, baby," Athaliea said.

"Amboze play wif me," Azkadellia told her, pointing at the advisor.

"Ambrose played with you? Did you have fun?" Ahamo asked. He shook Ambrose's hand.

"I says, and _magic_," she told him quite fervently. Ahamo looked at his wife, nonplussed, who looked at Ambrose.

"She performed her first bit of magic this morning," he told Athaliea. "She made a stone glow." Athaliea's mouth fell open, both in amazement and in disappointment that she had missed the moment.

"You did it all by yourself, darling?" she asked. Az nodded, proud of herself. "Good girl!" her mother cried, letting her down onto the ground and kissing her dark curls.

"Come on, Mama," Azkadellia said, tripping over herself to lead her parents through the Mayze. "Have avencher," she giggled. Athaliea started to follow her, gesturing for the two men to come as well. Ambrose and Ahamo came up on her either side, and she slipped her arms into theirs.

"So how was Central City?" Ambrose asked. "I'm sorry I couldn't come."

"It was very nice, Ambrose," Ahamo said.

"The new Embassy is beautiful, and the monument to my parents is quite lovely," Athaliea said, her voice catching slightly. Outside the finally-complete new Royal Embassy, a marble statue depicting the former royal couple had been erected; Athaliea and Ahamo had gone to the dedication ceremony.

"We saw a Viewer there," Ahamo added. Athaliea looked at him.

"I thought you didn't want to tell anyone?"

"I changed my mind," he said. She raised her eyebrows. "It's good news, we should share it!" Ahamo insisted.

"Tell anyone what?" Ambrose asked curiously, scooping up Azkadellia. Athaliea smiled.

"We're having another girl," she said, running one hand over the bump of her stomach. Ambrose grinned.

"Really?" he asked. Ahamo nodded. "That's wonderful!" Ambrose said. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Athaliea said, her face aglow. "Do you hear, Az? You're going to have a little sister," she told the little girl in Ambrose's arms, tickling her.

"Siss-tuh," Azkadellia crooned, reaching down to pet her mother's belly. "Siiiss-tuh."

"Yes, baby, sister," Ahamo said, taking her from Ambrose.

_Four months later…_

"You know, we really should find her a tutor," said Athaliea. Ahamo looked up at her from his side of the swing. Azkadellia sat between them, braiding daisies into a wreath and humming to herself.

"A tutor?" Ahamo asked. "She's glued to Ambrose most of the time, I think that's more than enough tutoring for any child."

Athaliea laughed. "No, I mean a magic tutor. I had one when I was small. She should learn to train her powers."

Azkadellia looked up, aware that her parents were talking about her. She nodded seriously at her father, then put her head on her mother's swollen belly. Athaliea smoothed her daughter's dark curls.

"Well, you may be better at picking someone for that job," Ahamo said, "But I'm willing to help."

"Thank you," Athaliea answered, stretching her arms. "What time do you have?" she asked. Her husband glanced at his watch. The glitter it threw caught Azkadellia's eye, and she sat up, grabbing her father's wrist to watch the ticking hands circulate.

Ahamo laughed. "Eleven-twenty," he told Athaliea.

"Oh, we're going to be late," she said. "Reception is in ten minutes."

"You're right," Ahamo said, standing up. "Come on, little princess," he cooed to Azkadellia, sweeping her down from her perch on the swing next to her mother. "And you, my lady." He extended his arms to help his wife to her feet. Athaliea had given him one arm and used the other to push herself up, taking a moment to balance, when she gasped suddenly, her hand flying to her side.

"Thalie? Love? What is it?" Ahamo asked instantly. Athaliea straightened up slowly.

"N-nothing. Huh…strange," she said, taking his arm. "I must have moved too quickly for her liking. Sorry," she said to her belly. Ahamo watched Athaliea carefully for a moment. "I'm all right," she insisted, kissing him. "Let's go." Her husband nodded, holding out his other hand to Azkadellia, who tripped along beside her parents up the short path to the Palace, to Reception.

"Your Majesty, we have had a hard season with planting—when the rains lasted overlong, a large portion of seed was damaged, and the rest refused to grow while it rained. Now harvest is nearly upon us, and we have no way to provide enough competition in standard market," the farmer said. Athaliea watched him for a moment, and then folded her arms on top of the desk that had been erected in the Reception Hall. It was thought improper that Zonians saw their Queen pregnant. In Central City, some months before, she'd stood behind a wide podium.

"Sir, I think your problem may be best resolved through contact with my Treasury Office," she said kindly. "Bring your report to the Master of the Treasury, with this—" she hastily sealed the note she scribbled into an envelope— "and he and the Master of Agriculture will speak to me and Master Ambrose within the week. Not to worry, we will ensure that something is done to help you," Athaliea assured the polite old farmer. He bowed graciously.

"Thank you, Your Majesty, Your Highness," he said, bowing also to Ahamo as he left.

Ambrose exhaled and stepped forward as the door closed behind the farmer. Athaliea turned her chair to the side. "That was the last one for today," he told the Queen. She nodded, closing her eyes.

"Your Majesty?" Adlai asked. He limped forward, leaning on his cane. "Do you feel well?"

Athaliea simply sat still for a moment, tight-lipped and white-faced, with her hands on her belly.

"Thalie?" Ahamo asked, kneeling in front of her. "Darling?"

"Get Garner," she whispered, then slumping back in her chair, unconscious.

* * *

All right, I'm sure I'll catch some crap for skipping ahead, but if you think about it, would you still pay attention to eleven chapters of Azkadellia growing up? None too interesting, if you ask me, because I tried to write some chapters about it, and I wanted to die. Maybe a stand-alone piece, but we'll see. All right, here comes DG! (And a good thing, too. I was starting to mix up my A names. Funny how the names you give your characters always tend to do that; it wasn't planned.)

Fae


	13. Two Little Princesses

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, not yet," one of the midwives said to Ahamo as she left Athaliea's room with a basin. He sank back down on his bench, just where he had sat when Azkadellia was born, and looked at his watch. _Thirteen hours_. Thirteen hours since Athaliea had gone into premature labour. It was past two in the morning. Only he and Ambrose were still awake; Azkadellia was of course in bed, and Adlai was far too old to sit up all night long. Ambrose was downstairs getting a pot of tea for them in the kitchens.

Ahamo leaned forward and pressed his face into his hands. _Please…let them live…I can't make it without her_. Suddenly sick of sitting, and certain he was going to go mad if he did so for another second, he leapt to his feet and began to walk, not sure where his feet were taking him. After a few minutes of wandering, fists stuffed in his pockets, he found himself at the door to the nursery. Quietly, he opened the door and let the light from the hall fall onto the little bed where Azkadellia lay. She held the doll he had brought her from Riverton in one arm, and the other was next to her little pink cheek. He walked in and sat lightly on her mattress, brushing aside one stray curl on her face that fluttered as she breathed. She wrinkled her nose in her sleep, but dreamt on.

Ahamo looked around the room. It smelled like Athaliea. On the wall was a drawing of Finaqua, and the gazebo, as he'd seen it the day he had arrived. It was the picture he had done the day Azkadellia was born. He took a deep breath; the room smelled like Athaliea. How many times had he seen her tuck in Azkadellia, and heard her sing the little princess' favourite lullaby?

_Two little princesses, dancing in a row_

_Spinning fast and freely on their little toes_

_Where the light will take them_

_No one ever knows_

_Two little princesses, dancing in a row_

_Spinning fast and freely on their little toes_

_Where the light will take you,_

_There's only one way to know_

_Two little princesses, dancing in a row_

He loved to hear Athaliea sing that for Azkadellia, and had been so happy a few months ago to know that there really would be two little princesses. Ahamo sighed, looking down at his daughter. Her long eyelashes fluttered as she dreamed. Gently stroking Azkadellia's hair again, he got up to leave, closing the door behind him.

* * *

"Ahamo." Someone kicked his foot. "Ahamo," they said, louder. He forced his eyes open and looked immediately at his watch. Eleven-fourteen. He rubbed his eyes and looked up into Ambrose's tired face.

"You fell asleep for an hour," he said unnecessarily. "I thought I should wake you up—Garner is going to help her have the baby now. They're ready."

"But…it's so soon," Ahamo insisted. "Can't they do something to help her wait?"

Ambrose sighed heavily, sitting down beside him. "I think it's going to be what it'll be. He wouldn't do this if it wasn't what had to be done."

"Can I see her?"

"Ask Garner," Ambrose said, nodding to the man who was ascending the stairs, wearing a smock and followed by a midwife.

"Garner!" Ahamo called, stepping in front of the healer, blocking his path. "I'd like to see my wife, please," Ahamo told him. The worn-looking healer looked as though the last thing he wanted was to argue with the now fully alert Prince Consort.

He started to speak, but gave up and nodded, gesturing to the door. "Only for a moment."

Ahamo went in, kneeling next to his wife and taking her hand. Her face was drenched in sweat, her stomach enormous under the sheets. Athaliea smiled at him, running her hand along his face.

"He let you in?" she laughed weakly.

"Only for a minute," he answered. "You're going to be all right," Ahamo told her. Athaliea nodded.

"Both of us are," she said, putting a hand on her belly as one of the midwives wiped her forehead.

"Your Majesty, it is time," Garner said. Ahamo shot daggers at him.

"No, darling," Athaliea said, squeezing his hand. "Go ahead. I'll see you soon," she assured him.

"I don't want to leave you," he whispered, pressing his lips to her ear.

"You don't want _me_ to leave _you_," she answered just as quietly. "I'll see you soon," she told him. Ahamo's eyes filled with tears. "Go be with Azkadellia, she needs you," Athaliea insisted.

"You need me," Ahamo said.

"Ahamo," she said, businesslike. "Listen to me. I can do this, do you hear me? We're going to have another daughter by sunsset."

Athaliea's lavender eyes seemed to spark as she talked. He looked into them intently, then started to rise slowly.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too," she answered, squeezing his hand again. Glancing back as he closed the door, Ahamo saw his wife tense up again, another contraction racking her with pain. Then, the door snapped shut.

* * *

And, erm...this would be my arrival. You should all know that I love and appreciate my mum very much.

Fae


	14. A Charmed Connection

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

"Dorothy," he crooned at the miniscule bundle in his arms. "Dorothy Galinda, just like your mama," Ahamo said, looking at the baby's wide blue eyes. He glanced up at his sleeping wife. The midwife looked happily at him.

"Not a blessed thing wrong with that one," she said, holding out her arms for the baby. "She just wanted to make a grand entrance."

"As a princess should," Ahamo laughed, handing his daughter back to the woman. He was feeling stupidly light-hearted, and enjoying every second of it.

She smiled. "Yes, sir. Her Majesty should be waking up soon. 'Twere only a light sedative, to help her catch up on her sleep."

"Thank you," Ahamo said. He sat down on the bed next to his wife and took her hand in his. He was so thankful she was all right. A sound in the hallway drew his attention from Athaliea. Ambrose's voice was coming through the door; he was talking to a distraught-sounding four-year-old.

Ahamo looked at the midwife, who nodded, but pressed her finger to her lips. Ahamo stood and walked to the door, slipping outside.

A tearful Azkadellia clung to Saree's hand, Ambrose crouched down beside her. When she saw her father, she ran to him. "Where's Mama?" she asked, her little face puckered as he lifted her up. "Daddy, where's Mama?"

"Oh, Az," he said. "Don't worry. Mama's asleep. Come with me, do you want to meet your sister?" Azkadellia smiled hugely. "Can you be very quiet?" She nodded. "Ambrose, Saree, come in," Ahamo said to the other two. "Meet the new princess." He opened the door. "Very quiet, Azzie." She nodded again in his arms.

Inside, the midwife came forward with Dorothy. Ambrose and Saree _oohed_ and _aahed_ over her eyes—just like yours, sir, Saree said—and her perfect features—another Gale beauty, said Ambrose. Azkadellia watched them do this, one finger at her mouth.

"Azzie?" Ahamo asked. "What do you think, angel?"

She seemed to ponder the question as her little sister was brought closer. Az leaned forward to peer into the sleepy little face. Then, very gently, as was her nature, she bent down and lightly kissed the top of Dorothy's head. A mark seemed to shimmer for a moment where Azkadellia's lips had touched, then vanished. Azkadellia straightened up in her father's arms, smiling peacefully.

"I think she approves," Ambrose said quietly.

"Mama," Az patted her father's shoulder. Pointing her finger at the bed, she said again, "Mama."

The Queen was still asleep, but Ahamo brought her close to the bed. In the same graceful motion, Azkadellia leaned over and kissed her mother's cheek, leaving another brief shimmer where she touched.

"That's my girl," Ahamo said, straightening up and gesturing to the others that it was time for them all to leave. As they left, Azkadellia seemed to decide that Ahamo should not be wanting, and bestowed a kiss upon his cheek as well. He smiled at her, and nibbled her neck playfully, at which she giggled, waving goodbye to the midwife, her sister, her mother, to the room she could still see over her father's shoulder.


	15. Apple Picking

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

_Six annuals later…_

"DG! Don't—" Athaliea dropped her hand, bemused. What was the use? DG and Azkadellia would never give up their mad frolics, and she could never hope to try and make them. She walked up the steps of the gazebo and sat on the swing, watching her daughters run off towards the lake, looking for stones to skip. Smiling, she glanced down at the watch pinned to her jacket. In a few hours, Ahamo would be back from his trip to the Embassy. It was the first time she'd allowed him to go alone to the place that had killed her parents, and she was thankful that he was coming home. Athaliea opened her book, keeping a watchful eye on the girls.

Az and DG were perched on the log just around the bend in the shore. Athaliea smiled at the two of them; it looked as if they were still working on the clay dolls they had made for their father. DG was painting hers red; Azkadellia's was blue. The sky was perfect, cloudless, and shimmered off the waters.

"Come on, Deeg!" Azkadellia called her little sister. DG caught Az's hand and ran with her into the trees. Athaliea was sure that they were going to Ahamo's workshop; she made a mental note to tell him later where they put the dolls he asked them to make.

"Your Majesty," said a voice behind her. Ambrose stood on the path, looking nervous.

"Yes, Ambrose?"

"We've, ah, had another issue with the prison in Gillica," Ambrose said, coming closer. "This time it was one of the guards inciting the prisoners." The Queen rubbed her eyes.

"Then we shall have to go there. I need to establish a firmer control on the guardianship, since my delegation has not worked," she said. Ambrose nodded.

"I'll make arrangements for us to arrive at the Northern Island in six days. Do you wish the Princesses to come?" he asked.

"No. Wait—yes, if Tutor can come as well. They haven't left Finaqua in a few months, they can come," Athaliea told him.

"If I can come where, Your Majesty?" Tutor asked, walking up behind Ambrose. Athaliea stood and smiled at the magic tutor. His hiring had been the last one Adlai had overseen; his last gift to the two little princesses had been the teacher.

"Would you accompany the Princesses and myself to the Northern Island?" she asked. Tutor bowed.

"I would be glad to," he said. He looked around, then sighed. "DG is with her sister?" Tutor asked.

Athaliea smiled sympathetically. "I'm afraid so. Let me see if I can reach Azkadellia." She closed her eyes, and sent out the magical connection that bonded her to her daughters. _Azkadellia, my love_.

She heard no response. _Az?_

_I'm here, Mother._

_Darling, come back to the gazebo_._ DG has magic lessons with Tutor now_.

More silence.

_I already know you can hear me, Az._ She heard her elder daughter sigh.

_We're coming_.

"They're on their way," Athaliea told Tutor, smiling at her daughter's martyred tone.

* * *

As Athaliea walked down the stairs in the Palace with Ambrose a few hours later, the two little princesses came hurrying in, their hands clasped as usual, their faces sweaty but pleased.

"Where have you two been?" Athaliea asked. "I've been worried," she said, smoothing DG's rumpled hair.

DG looked up at Azkadellia mischievously. "Apple picking," she said.

"Oh, I can see that," Athaliea said, running her finger along DG's dust-covered apron. She smiled. "And where are the apples, Miss Azkadellia?" she teased.

"We…dropped them," Az said honestly. "We remembered you told us to be back in time to welcome Father, but we lost track of time and wanted to hurry back."

Athaliea arched her eyebrow, still smiling. Neither of the girls was going to tell her what really happened, she knew. "All right, both of you go clean up. Come to my office, and we'll go see Father together." She kissed Az's cheek, and the princesses ran up the stairs together. "Oh, don't—" Ambrose chuckled, and Athaliea gave him a half-glare.

"Oh, you know it's no use telling them not to run," he laughed. She smiled too, heading to her office.

* * *

"Anybody who says time jumps are not allowed can go write the missing years themselves." --KLCtheBookWorm.


	16. Double Eclipse, It Is Foreseen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Athaliea looked up when she heard hurrying footsteps. DG was running towards the gazebo, tears streaming down her face. She ran up the steps, straight into her mother's arms.

"DG, my darling," she said, worried. "You're shaking like a leaf. What's wrong?"

"Az," DG told her, still crying as her mother rocked her on the swing. "She fell, and I let go."

_What?_ Athaliea almost leapt to her feet. A movement in her periphery caught her attention and she breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief. "What are you talking about?" she asked soothingly, nudging DG. "See? There's Az right there," Athaliea told her. DG sat up, wiping her face, as the elder princess came closer, walking slowly to the gazebo. Something in her face unnerved her mother; was she that annoyed with her younger sister?

"Azkadellia?" Athaliea asked. "Are you all right?"

Az arched an eyebrow. "Of course, Mother. I've never felt better." And she smiled, but it was not the loving one she usually gave; something was very different about it.

* * *

In the cars that rumbled along the Brick Route to the Northern Island that night, Athaliea nudged Ahamo. He looked up from his book, and she nodded at the two girls. DG's head rested in Azkadellia's lap, and both were asleep on top of a snoring Ambrose.

"I think they had an argument earlier," Athaliea said quietly. And she told her husband what happened, and how she had thought that Azkadellia was angry at DG. He listened, frowning slightly, then looked back at his daughters. Ambrose gave a grunt.

"Well, Az has been devoted to her all day," he said. "They might have made up."

Athaliea nodded, still looking at Azkadellia, who was frowning in her sleep. The Queen leaned over onto her husband's shoulder and looked down. "What are you reading?" she asked.

"You're going to laugh," he said, closing the book and trying to put it away. Athaliea was too quick for him.

"This is one of Az's, isn't it?" she asked, flipping through the lightweight paperback. Ahamo nodded. "Why do you have it?"

"Well, I have painting and drawing to share with Deeg; Azzie loves to read, so I thought I'd borrow one of her poetry books she likes so much," Ahamo said.

Athaliea nodded. "That's sweet," she said, kissing him. She flipped through a few more pages. "Oh, I love this poem," she said. "So does Az. _The majestic Queen of the OZ…_"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Ahamo teased her. "I haven't gotten there yet."

"I'd hardly say that it matters," Athaliea laughed, and read on.

"_The majestic Queen of the OZ_

_Had two lovely daughters, she;_

_One to darkness, she be drawn,_

_One to light, she be shone_.

_Double Eclipse, it is foreseen_:

_Light meets Dark in the stillness between_.

_But only one, and one alone_

_Shall hold the Emerald and take the throne_."

"That's nice," Ahamo said. "Oddly specific, but nice," he joked.

Athaliea smiled uneasily, not wanting to give voice to her fears. "It's about the story of the OZ's first war. The Double Eclipse only happens once every two thousand years. The next one will be in about...oh, fifteen annuals. The last time it happened, two witches were in power, and they were sisters. Scairse and Galinda. Scairse is known as the Witch of the Dark, now, because she tried to black out the suns' light in the OZ. Galinda defeated her by obtaining the Emerald of the Eclipse, obviously," Athaliea said.

"But they weren't princesses?" Ahamo asked.

"Not exactly; they were Ancients, as was their mother, Ozma. Ozma was the most powerfully magic Ancient of the time; when she died, her daughters clashed. Galinda saved the day, and Scairse was—imprisoned. Never heard from again. Galinda's great-granddaughter was Queen when the Grey Gale landed in the Zone; she relinquished her power to the girl, and now you have me," Athaliea told him.

"Ah-hah," her husband said. "And what happened to the Emerald? Is it buried somewhere among the Crown Jewels in Central City?" Athaliea looked at him innocently.

"Now, I can't possibly tell you that, slipper," she said. "It's a royal secret." And she moved forward, kissing him passionately.

He did not see Azkadellia watching from under the fringe of her eyelashes, or the way her mouth twitched in anger, but her mother felt it in the back of her mind. It was then that she feared the worst; she just had no way of knowing for sure yet.

* * *

This chapter just about broke my heart to write. Poor Az. Poor Athaliea. Poor everybody. Get ready, loves, we're getting close to Part II.

Fae


	17. No One Ever Knows

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

"_Where the light will take you, there's only one way to know_. _Two little princesses dancing in a row,_" Athaliea sang to DG. She kissed the sleeping girl on her cheek. "My angel, my light. Sleep well." And she got up from the bed to go, leaving Tutor in his dog form under the chair. He had been staying with DG at night, to see if they could confirm the Queen's fears of what had been bothering both her daughters. So far, all that Athaliea had on her side was suspicion and watchfulness.

As she walked out, she hugged her fur closer about her. It was so cold in the north. She preferred Finaqua. Entering the office she was sharing with Ahamo and Ambrose, Athaliea sat behind her desk.

"Is she asleep?" Ahamo asked from under the _Zoniad_ newspaper draped over his face.

"Yes, I think she feels better. She's been so high-strung these last few weeks," Athaliea said, creasing her forehead. Ahamo knew of her worries and sat up, nodding. "I wish she'd tell me what was—"

Tutor came skittering in on his little clawed paws, barking madly, then he ran out again, still barking. Athaliea stood immediately, aware that something was very wrong. "Wait here," she told Ahamo, and she swept from the room, following Tutor. Halfway down the hall, she passed Azkadellia, who smiled sweetly. Something in Azkadellia's eyes flashed red as she did, both shocking her mother and confirming every suspicion she had had. Athaliea passed her daughter by a few paces, and then snapped her fingers at Tutor, who understood, following Azkadellia surreptitiously to her room. Athaliea herself quickened her pace, and her heart stopped as she entered her youngest daughter's room.

* * *

"Ahamo!" she cried, bursting into the office, cradling her daughter. "Ahamo!"

Her husband leapt to his feet to help take his daughter. "Athaliea? What—what happened to you?" Her hair was positively silver, its dark gloss gone. DG looked as though she were in shock as she lay on her mother's desk. Athaliea closed the door, gasping for breath as she sank to the floor. "She—she killed DG," the Queen panted, slumping onto Ahamo's arm. "That is not our daughter anymore. We were right—Scairse has her."

Ahamo looked at DG, who seemed scared and flustered as she sat up on the edge of the desk. "She—DG died?" he asked in horror. Athaliea nodded.

"I gave her my magic; I gave her Second Life," she said. Ahamo looked horrified. "I had to, you know that," she said. "She knows how to defeat Scairse now. But we must get her out of here."

Ahamo nodded fervently. "We'll take her to—"

"No, Ahamo," Athaliea said. "Out of the Zone."

* * *

Before sunsrise, Athaliea rode her white mare from the Northern Island, followed by Ahamo. Her cloak was draped about herself and DG, who slept, holding on tight to her mother. They were going to Central City. Thankful that the witch had no longer had a connection to her mind, Athaliea had had Tutor invent a story that she had been called away to Gillica with Ahamo and Ambrose on emergency. The idea was that she and Ahamo had left earlier than the advisor. Ambrose would be following them shortly with the 'message' of DG's death, just so that Scairse could be fooled long enough, and so that the three of them could return, distraught, to the Northern Island at nightfall without being questioned.

Tutor had also magicked a vase into DG's form, and Ambrose was going to 'discover' the youngest princess dead in a few hours. He would be dispatched then to find the royal couple and bring them home. Hopefully, measures would be taken to hide the 'body' before Azkadellia—Scairse—could discover what they had done. Fortunately, DG's magic was not yet strong enough to connect her to her sister's mind, and Scairse could not see that she was still alive.

As the suns rose, and Ahamo and Athaliea could see the gate to Central City from the crest of the hill they were on, DG stirred, still wrapped tightly about her mother. "Mother?" she asked.

"Yes, my angel?" Athaliea asked, her voice breaking as the horse galloped down the gentle slope.

"Am I going far away?"

Athaliea's eyes filled with tears. "I'm afraid so, my heart."

"But why?" DG asked plaintively.

Athaliea patted her daughter's arms wrapped around her middle. "It's the only way we can keep you safe," she answered.

"The Emerald is with the Grey Gale," DG said softly. "But why do I have to stop Az?"

"Shh, darling, don't say anything," Athaliea told her as they reached the gates. The sleepy guard waved them through, not asking for identification. She galloped ahead of her husband, turning a corner and searching for the house she knew that she needed.

In front of a tall, white house, they clattered to a halt. Ahamo dropped down, lifting DG from her mother's horse. Athaliea tied the mares to the fence that surrounded a neat little hedge in front of the home, and walked up the steps, enfolding DG under her cloak again.

Ahamo knocked loudly on the front door, hoping that someone would hear him. He knocked again, and then heard the deadbolt slide back. A befuddled-looking man, his dark hair and moustache tipped with grey, opened the door. He was in his shirtsleeves and his tie was loosened. The Mystic Man's eyes widened in shock as he recognised the apparition on his doorstep.

"Your Majesty?" he asked.

"May we come in, old friend?" Athaliea pleaded. The Mystic Man stepped aside.


	18. Another Storm

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

"We have a very set amount of time," the Mystic Man said as he helped the Queen into the car. Ahamo nodded, getting in beside her. "Milltown is not far, but we have much to do when we get there, and it is of utmost importance that we get DG out of the Zone before Azkadellia—Scairse—learns what is going on. Let me get James." He left to fetch his driver from the kitchen.

"Darling, stay quiet, all right?" Athaliea told her daughter. DG nodded, snuggling closer to her mother under the cape. Ahamo put his arm around them both and adjusted his hat so it hid his face. Athaliea pulled the hood low over her eyes so that the driver would not see who she was as he got in. The Mystic Man got in next to Ahamo.

"James, we must get to Milltown as quickly as possible," he said.

If James found these instructions odd, he said nothing, but revved the engine and pulled out of the back driveway to the Mystic Man's house. Almost immediately, Athaliea fell asleep on top of Ahamo, holding DG close.

* * *

Before long, or so it felt, Athaliea heard the Mystic Man's voice again. "Here is fine, James. We can walk the rest of the way. I'll be back in half an hour. Lavender?" he asked, nudging the Queen. 'Lavender' was to be her code name in James' presence. She sat up, looking out the window. They'd stopped just off the Brick Route. A sign depicted a smiling man mowing his lawn; 'Everything's better in Milltown!" it boasted.

She moved DG, who woke up, looking into her mother's eyes. Athaliea pressed a finger to her lips and DG nodded. Ahamo got them both out of the car, and all three moved carefully to keep DG's presence a secret. The Mystic Man led them further along the Brick Route, down an alleyway in the direction of the main street of busy midmorning Milltown. A man—android—was hunched over a wagon with a broken axle at the end of the alley.

"Father Vue," the Mystic Man called softly. The android looked up, directly into the Queen's eyes, then to Ahamo's. His expression changed from happiness to confusion quickly as he looked down and saw DG as well. "We need your help." Father Vue stood, wiping his hands on his blue jeans.

* * *

In an hour and a half, the entire story had been told, tasks had been assigned, plans had been made, and Athaliea stood with Ahamo in the open field. Father Vue, the Mystic Man, DG, Hank, and Emily, the newly programmed Series 1487 Nurture Units that would take DG with them to the Other Side, were all there. Ahamo was going too. Only he knew where the farmhouse was. He would make sure their destination was safe, then jump quickly back into the storm. DG was very good, she did not cry, confused though she was about why she was here, let alone why the Mystic Man was chanting to the sky while holding hers and Ahamo's hands.

Clouds began to swirl out of nowhere. "Good!" the Mystic Man cried. Athaliea started to feel tears sting her eyes again. Her angel…

"Your Majesty, it's time," he said gently. She nodded, kneeling beside her daughter. Ahamo knelt, too.

"I love you very much, my angel. Never forget that," she whispered. Her heart was breaking, surely. "I will see you again one day."

"Where am I—?" Athaliea pressed a finger to DG's lips.

"I am with you, always," she said, laying her hand over DG's heart as her eyes filled with tears. "You will return to me, don't worry. We'll always find each other." DG nodded and flung her arms around her mother's neck.

"I love you, Mama!" she shouted over the loudening winds.

"I love you, my light!" Athaliea cried.

The Mystic Man laid a hand over DG's eyes as she turned to face him, and she collapsed, apparently asleep, into Ahamo's arms. Athaliea knew her memories were cloaked with magic; she would not remember any of this until the time was right.

"We'll take care of her, Your Majesty," Hank shouted as he joined Ahamo with Emily. "She'll be the luckiest girl on the Other Side!"

Athaliea nodded, tears streaming, as she watched the three of them step forward, Ahamo still carrying DG, waiting for the funnel cloud to touch down. Then, in a bright flash, it did, and they disappeared into it.

Athaliea's heart felt as though it had broken completely, and would never be the same again. She sank to her knees as the winds slowed. The Mystic Man put an arm around her sobbing shoulders, sober-faced. Now all they had to do was wait for Ahamo, and he would see the couple back to the Northern Island.

The Prince Consort slammed back to earth half an hour later. Athaliea saw from her position, still on the ground, that he too had cried. He came close and helped his wife to her feet; she could barely stand. Father Vue nodded at him.

"I will send word whenever I hear from them, sir," he told Ahamo.

The Mystic Man nodded as Ahamo spoke. "Thank you, Father Vue. Thank you for everything."

Once they were back in the car, Athaliea struggled to regain composure, her head on Ahamo's shoulder. "Your—your driver—what—?" The Mystic Man shook his head.

"I'll give him something for his memory later. You must sleep, Your Majesty," he told her. He passed her a tiny green bottle from inside his jacket. It was emblazoned with two interlocked 'M's. 'Magic Elixir,' it read. "Drink this," the Mystic Man told her. She nodded gratefully, downing the tiny sip that was in the bottle.

Instantly, waves of sleep began to crash over her. "Thank you," she whispered. Then she dropped off to sleep against her husband's chest.


	19. Eulogy for an Era

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

At DG's funeral a week later, Athaliea and Ahamo cried real tears, both for the daughters they missed and for what they had to do in just a few short hours. Azkadellia held her mother's hand at the graveside, peering down into the black hole that swallowed the small—and, though she didn't know it, empty—coffin. Athaliea knew that there was a part inside of her eldest daughter that was screaming in horror at what the witch had done—but Scairse must not yet know of Athaliea's awareness of her presence.

The entire OZ was watching the processional leading to the Royal Cemetery in the western part of the Zone, and the eulogies given by their Queen and her husband. Now they saw Athaliea turn into her husband and cry harder into his black jacket. Wives, mothers, all over the Zone were crying out, screaming with her. The loss of a child is too great a burden for one woman to bear; they held it with her, understood her. No one paid attention to the lack of decorum befitting a Queen, though they wondered if the shock had whitened her hair like that. Similarly, they assumed that the Crown Princess had not shed a tear out of her own shock and sheer terror. As the last mourner laid their bouquet on the little princess' grave, the blue-eyed little one who had died suddenly in her sleep, Athaliea and Ahamo walked from the graveside, their heads bowed.

Athaliea was still crying as Ahamo helped her into the car, following Azkadellia and Ambrose; she was still weak from losing her magic, though the OZians assumed that it was the strain she'd been under drawing the lines in her face. They did not know that Athaliea had no magic. Neither did Azkadellia.

"Shh," Ahamo whispered, stroking her head. "Shh, darling." Athaliea sat up, noting that Ahamo had trouble keeping the quiver from his voice. There was so much she wanted to say to her husband in the brief time they had left together; none of it could be said in front of the audience they had. Ambrose may have been watching the rain start to hit the windows as a tear slipped down his cheek, but dry-eyed Azkadellia was watching her parents closely.

* * *

All was ready. Ahamo had the Arometre, his secret identity, his destination, and all the information he needed for DG's return. The only question was when that would be, and how soon he would return to Athaliea. The two of them stood in the stables of the hotel they had rented for their stay during DG's 'burial', late at night.

"You have me forever, Lavender Eyes," he said, his voice cracking. She kissed him passionately and for the last time for many annuals, she was certain.

"And you have me forever, slipper," she whispered. Ahamo mounted his black horse as she opened the stable's door to the clear white light of the moon.

"I love you, Athaliea!" he cried before riding out.

The words hit Athaliea like a blow from an iron fist. She raised one hand in goodbye, sinking slowly to her knees on the cobblestones, unable to stand for another moment under the weight that crushed her.


	20. The Last Stand

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

_Seven annuals later…_

"What are you working on, Ambrose?"

The advisor nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Azkadellia's voice directly behind him. It had been six annuals since her possession; at seventeen, the Witch was learning to take more control of Azkadellia's growing presence. Ambrose quickly closed the plans of the SunSeeder, which he was sure that it was already to late hide from her, and turned to face the girl he still had to pretend was the Crown Princess he knew.

"Some, ah, paperwork," he covered. "For your mother."

She watched him from under heavy-lidded eyes for a quiet moment. "Has she said anything about returning to Finaqua?" she asked sweetly. Ambrose sighed.

"You know that she does not want to return there," he told her.

Something shifted in the mask of Azkadellia's face. "We'll see about that."

"Azkadellia, I'm saying this as someone who cares," Ambrose said. _Not for the Witch, but for _my_ Azkadellia_. "Let your mother be. She's had enough troubles. Let her stay where she wants; it's no concern of yours."

The Witch had already started to leave. At the door, she turned. "It most certainly is, Ambrose. I care very deeply for her." And without the slightest indication on her pretty face that she meant what she said, the Witch left.

Ambrose sank down on his chair, rubbing his face. _What are we going to do? We can't last much longer_._ DG, you must come back_._ You_ must.

_Two annuals later…_

"Why, General Launnent," Scairse hissed to the goateed man. "And what could my mother's favourite commander possibly be doing here? Shouldn't you be fighting my longcoats somewhere?" she mocked. The bald general shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Sorceress," the traitorous captain said. "I—I wish to pledge my allegiance to you. I can no longer stand by a Queen who—"

She stood. "Who what?" she cooed, running a hand along his shoulder. Her bright brown eyes flashed with a nearly unnoticeable, malevolent red.

"Who—er," the man faltered.

"No, you don't have any other reason than wanting to align yourself with a dominant power. Isn't that right?" the Witch asked. Launnent started to stammer. "Oh, don't apologise," she said silkily. "It's the right choice. Rise, General Launnent. You are the new commander of my longcoats." The general stood, smirking, and bowed low to his Queen. "Your first order: hand over control of Central City to me." The general bowed again, and he left the room, taking from the Sorceress the papers she handed him, establishing his authority.

The Witch turned to face Viedro, her confidant. "Perfect. We have control of the OZ. Only two more things to take care of."

"Sorceress?" Viedro asked.

"Prepare a convoy. Now that we have General Launnent, Central City is as good as ours. It's been too long since I've seen my mother in Finaqua," the Witch said.

* * *

Athaliea sighed, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut. There was a dull throbbing in the back of her head; she was certain it meant that one of her daughters was trying to reach for her, but she could not communicate back. She opened her eyes again, and they watered at the glimmer of the lake before her. Since being forced out of the Northern Island, Athaliea had been under house arrest—though no one had called it that, she knew what Scairse was doing—at Finaqua. Being here brought up so many painful memories.

Glancing down the riverbank, she saw little DG, running with Azkadellia into the trees. Now they were twirling, singing their special song. Now they stacked the rocks they burrowed away for days when they skipped stones. Athaliea sighed. Often, she thought about how she could save the OZ if she had not given up her light, but she knew that was impossible. No mother could give up her daughter, or choose between them, even if she were Queen.

DG…one day, she would return to the OZ, and Athaliea would not be where she had promised to be. It was a thought that haunted her. Luckily, the trail of breadcrumbs was laid, so delicately that the Witch could never find it. The T.D.E.S.P.H.T.L. was set in Finaqua, with Athaliea's message for her daughter. Father Vue would give her the twister crest when she arrived. And the Mystic Man would be able to direct her—well, to the Northern Island. Athaliea didn't know how it would work from there now. Hopefully, the Mystic Man would accompany her to the palace, or at least be able to help DG from there.

The pain in her head gave another, more powerful throb. She shuddered, opening the book in her lap. Reading was the only thing she could do to keep from losing her mind completely. Shivering again, Athaliea pulled the blanket further up on her waist, missing the way Ahamo would surely have folded her into his arms, making her feel strong and well again.

She looked up, hearing approaching footsteps. Steeling herself, Athaliea turned slightly, recognising Ambrose. He looked as strained as she felt. _Poor man,_ she thought.

Ambrose approached and knelt by her chair. "Majesty, I bring bad news. The Princess Azkadellia has seized Central City," he told her. Athaliea felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

"Have our men pull back, set up positions in the South," she answered immediately. Ambrose made a noise in his throat. "What?" Athaliea demanded, instantly feeling guilty for snapping at her friend.

He sighed. "The Fourth Brigade has fallen. General Launnent has defected."

Athaliea finally faced him, stricken. "He—he was our most loyal friend," she said.

"I'm so sorry," Ambrose said. Athaliea saw that he meant it, but turned away. "There is no law other than Azkadellia's." He looked slyly at Athaliea. "She tried to steal the plans for the SunSeeder, but I was able to destroy the blueprints," he told her with a smile.

The SunSeeder was his pet project, completely secret to all except Athaliea, Ahamo, and Scairse since she had seen it in Ambrose's office. She had not gleaned much information, but that did not change the fact that she now knew that she could use the Seeder. She also knew that Moritainium powered it, and that the Emerald of the Eclipse could concentrate its power. Naturally, though, Athaliea would not budge in letting slip anything as to the Emerald's location, despite Scairse's discovery of the connection between Athaliea's and Azkadellia's minds.

Unfortunately, the day the Witch had discovered she could not use Azkadellia to probe into Athaliea's mind was also the day she realised what she had been blind to for nearly eight annuals; Athaliea had no magic. And it was that day Athaliea was forced from the Northern Island.

Now, Athaliea turned back to Ambrose with a concerned look. She placed her hand on his arm. "She'll come after you, Ambrose," she told him. Ambrose nodded, seeming to accept that they had reached the end of their resistance. Tutor had long since been captured, when he had tried to fight back as they left the Northern Island. Ahamo could not come back. And DG, their only real hope, was worlds away, still too young to know or understand what she was destined to do.

Still, Ambrose asked, "Is there nothing you can do, Majesty?"

Athaliea looked sadly at him. "Too late. The darkness is too deeply rooted in her."

"But _your_ light," Ambrose said hopefully, more wishing than believing it to be true. "You are the most powerful being in all of the OZ."

Athaliea half-smiled. "Was, old friend. I gave my power and my light to save someone very special." She looked away. He knew all this. "My angel…" she trailed off.

Ambrose started to speak, but suddenly his eyes snapped up. It looked as though the Witch had already arrived to claim her power. Athaliea did not even have to look around. There was nothing to be done; if she fought back, DG would have no one to help her when she finally returned. Athaliea knew that with the fall of her forces, she had lost to the Witch. Ambrose stood, putting out an arm defensively before Athaliea.

"Show some respect!" he said. Azkadellia sneered as her mother cast off the blanket, using Ambrose's arm to steady herself for a moment.

"The Queen's reign ends today," Azkadellia said. Athaliea could see that her daughter was not talking; this was all the Witch of the Dark.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" she challenged, stepping right into Azkadellia's face. The Witch watched Athaliea for a moment.

"I do," she said innocently. "You need a long rest, Mother." The Witch snapped her fingers. "Take her away," she ordered the longcoats standing by. "And take him to the Alchemist. If you won't tell me what you know," she said sweetly to Ambrose, "I guess I'll just have to reach in and take it myself." Azkadellia smirked as the advisor was seized, and borne away by two of the large longcoats. She sighed happily, pleased with herself. Athaliea, who forced her arm from another longcoat's grip a short distance away, still watched the Witch furiously.

Azkadellia came closer. Athaliea saw the red flash in the very back of her eyes, and every horrible doubt and feeling she'd had for nearly ten annuals came bubbling to the surface as the Witch sneered from behind her beautiful daughter's face. The laughing, brown-eyed girl who would have been Queen of the OZ. Who had held her mother's hand and picked daisies with her, and crooned to her baby sister. All of this was lost to the evil that now controlled her. "You," Athaliea spat, throwing aside the weak pretence she'd upheld for so long, "are not my daughter!"

The Witch's lip twitched and her eyes steeled. _So, she knows_._ She probably has for a long time_._ No matter_.She clapped her hands once, bringing them together exactly between hers and Athaliea's faces. That was the last Athaliea saw.

* * *

All right. End of Part I. My heart is breaking. Part II begins tomorrow or so, and will simply be part of this story, not a whole new set. I'll be sure and denote when I reach Part II. Review, please, tell me if you want Ahamo to come back for Part II in more than just the end. I have some highly debatable chapters about him I'm not quite sure about yet. Also, Part II is significantly briefer than Part I, mostly because I presume you've seen the series. If you haven't, hopefully you think me absolutely brilliant for coming up with all this on my own. Just kidding. Mostly what I've done with Part II is dramatise the clips of the Queen and the Witch, Ahamo and DG, etc. (similar to the Ambrose/Thalie scene above), and explain what the Queen does while in the prison. I need a day to recuperate from actually posting this chapter, though. See you tomorrow, dears. Read up!

Fae


	21. Shadow Magic

**Majesty: Part II**

**A Tin Man Fan Fiction**

**Being an account of the life of Queen of The Outer Zone, Her Royal Highness Athaliea Galinda Gale**

Chapter One

In the annuals she spent trapped in the Witch's prison, Athaliea found out just how lonely she really was. True, it had been horrible; nearly ten annuals without Ahamo, without her angels, but she had had people to talk to—Ambrose, who was by now surely killed. Tutor, for a short time, though now she had no idea where he could possibly be. She shuddered to think that he too was dead. Now, however, she only ever saw the Witch, and very, very rarely. Only when Scairse felt particularly frustrated and she wanted to try to force Athaliea to give up the Emerald's location, which never worked.

Athaliea knew where she was. At least, she had a vague idea. She was definitely in proximity of the Witch's control center—the Black Tower; perhaps she was even somewhere inside the Tower. She knew that Scairse would know to keep her perceived threats as close as possible, not to mention she knew that there was a small part of Azkadellia that could break through, that yearned to have her mother close.

The other thing Athaliea knew about her location was that, through some error of the prison's construction, she could hear voices outside, above her, that were usually her indicator of when the Witch was about to come. And another, even more crucial error; Athaliea found that by digging with great difficulty for the vestiges of old magic within her, she could magically press against the shimmering orb that surrounded the island of sand she stood upon. Athaliea often wondered whether the Witch had planned it this way, or whether it was a mistake that had been overlooked. Hoping greatly for the latter, Athaliea spent much of her time straining the tiny sparks of magic, the shadow magic, she could find in this densely magical prison trying to do what she had always intended to.

When the Mystic Man had promised to direct DG to the Northern Island, he and Athaliea had first had to plan how she would be returned if the OZ needed her before the Nurture Units were meant to bring her home. He was going to help Athaliea reach her magic as much as possible and give DG dreams of the OZ, which would bring up memories of her childhood, so that the Units would be clued in to the fact that it was time to return, despite the earliness. Well, in the prison, where no one knew that she was, Athaliea had to do this on her own. By 'exercising' her powers every day, though it tired her, she found she was able to force her shadow magic out; sometimes, even, she saw the inside of DG's mind, the way she would have if DG had developed the connection Azkadellia once had with her mother.

After more than six annuals of this forced, ritualistic straining, with no remark from the Witch, Athaliea felt like giving up. There had been no sound of an unexpected arrival in the OZ, Scairse was more powerful than ever despite resistance (a hopeful comment she caught before one of Scairse's visits), and as the Double Eclipse drew closer, Scairse was not sweating about anything other than finding the Emerald.

Of course, Athaliea knew she wouldn't give up. She couldn't. DG needed her.

On the very night—well, Athaliea called it 'night' when she slept, it was never any time but early afternoon in her prison—on the very night she had had these feelings, however, she had a peculiar experience. Rather than pressing her shadow magic out to find DG's subconscious, and work her way into her daughter's dreams, Athaliea dreamed of DG. Not of DG as the small child she remembered, a grown DG, twenty annuals, circling higher and higher, unconscious, in the black hole of a travel storm. Then, suddenly, she had a flash into DG's mind, hearing her own voice—_a storm is coming_.

And before long, as Athaliea stood in her prison, brooding on her 'reverse' dream, she heard a voice coming from above her, a man's that she did not recognise.

"Yes, sorceress," he said.

A sudden sound drew her attention to the edge of her island. The Witch, furious, was marching toward her. Her gold armour glinted in the sunlight as she drew close. "You," she said, "lied to me. She's alive!"

And hope, a hope that had been dormant for far too long, seared its way to the top of Athaliea's heart, warming her so that even the freezing rain that Scairse conjured could not temper it.

* * *

So you'll find that in these next seven or so chapters that I take issue with the writing of the series. That's why this section is so short; not only do I assume you've seen the series, but I simply don't enjoy the writing of some of the dialogue I needed to use. I think much more truthful dialogue could have replaced it. Oh, well. C'est la vie, et cetera. I hope you'll enjoy this Part II.

Fae


	22. Will You Remember?

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Knowing that DG was back in the OZ, probably alone and terrified, but alive, lit a fire in Athaliea's heart. Every day, she redoubled her efforts to reach her daughter, in a way that was more not only coming to her in a dream, but where she could offer help. Unfortunately, because DG had begun to reuse her connections, or perhaps because she had returned to a place where she was surrounded by magic, Athaliea found it impossible to break from her prison into DG's mind even in the slightest.

She sank down, exhausted, after one such exertion, onto the uprooted end of a tree that lay on her tiny island. Athaliea leaned her head back and closed her eyes. How nice sleep would feel now.

"How much does she know?" the Witch demanded. Athaliea started. She hadn't even noticed her entrance. Nonetheless, she remained calm, not answering. DG would not be endangered because of her. "It doesn't have to be like this for either of you, you know," Scairse purred. "I mean, we could all be friends."

The innocent look on her daughter's face made Athaliea boil with anger at the Witch. She rolled her eyes. "How?" she asked.

Something hardened in the Witch's eyes. "Big changes are planned. You could play an important role in the future of the OZ." Athaliea rolled her eyes again and looked away.

"Or, you could be a verse in a song," Scairse continued venomously. "It's your choice."

Athaliea turned back to face her, glaring fiercely. The Witch sneered, then walked away, towards the edge of the island, and clapped her hands. She vanished.

Trembling with fear, for she had never seen the Witch look so dangerous—or desperate—Athaliea forced herself to stand, beginning again to try and reach DG.

* * *

_How can I tell you what I don't know?_ Athaliea leapt to her feet from her position on the rock. Was that real? It—it couldn't be, she was imagining things, and she didn't even know what—

"DG? DG, where are you?" she shouted, still unsure of whether she was going insane.

_Mother?_ Athaliea's heart jumped into her throat. "DG! Where are you?"

But this time, there was no answer. Drawing determinedly on her shadow magic, Athaliea started to work against the shimmering walls of her prison. _DG, DG, DG…I'm here, my angel…where are you?_

Then, suddenly, as she pictured her daughter's face as she'd seen it in the travel storm, a roar of wind engulfed her, catching her by surprise. When Athaliea opened her eyes, the roaring had stopped. She moved her head, and—a mane of dark hair fell over her shoulder. She looked down. She was wearing the ermine robe that she had been the last time she saw DG, and, she realised, was in DG's bedroom in the Northern Island. With a shiver of anticipation, Athaliea turned slowly, knowing what should be behind her. She smiled.

DG sat up on the bed. Her curly dark hair was in two tails, and she was wearing one of the strangest aprons Athaliea had ever seen. The square on one side read, "I'M DG!"

The girl looked bewildered; this must be her dream, thought Athaliea. Resisting the urge to scoop DG into her arms and sob hysterically, Athaliea stepped towards the bed. She had to tell her as much as she could before the dream ended, to see how much DG could remember.

"Mother?" DG asked, sitting up. Athaliea zapped to the side of the bed, not totally sure how she did it.

"I missed you," she told DG. The girl still looked confused.

"I don't even know you," she answered, but not unkindly.

Athaliea continued, "Your light is strong. Let it guide you through your memories."

DG looked away as Athaliea watched her. "I'm a waitress," she said. "And a part-time student. I don't think I can do this."

Athaliea, not understanding much of this, zapped herself again to a new position, trying to see if a certain movement would trigger a reaction in DG. The girl saw her, but nothing happened.

Athaliea moved again, back to her daughter, and pressed their palms together. She turned hers upward, showing DG the fiery glow that emanated from the twisters on both of their hands. It was then that Athaliea thought it was working. "I'm scared," DG said.

With a rush of motherly affection, Athaliea answered, "When you were a girl, I used to rock you at our special place." She smiled. _Remember, darling. This is important._

DG showed no reaction, and Athaliea felt as though her heart was breaking all over again. Why couldn't she remember?

"Remember," she called softly, pleadingly. And the dream vanished, sucking her back in a whirl of sound and wind.


	23. The Reminder

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Athaliea snapped awake, breathing hard. Since their encounter in DG's dream, she had had a nearly unbreakable connection with her daughter, and every time she slept, Athaliea dreamed of DG's experiences, and the memories she was recalling. Just now, she had seen—through DG's eyes—a group of Pahpay hunters encircling her and her friends. Then, she had heard Tutor's voice, backed against a tree, and sent magic through to the lifeless landscape. That was when she awoke.

Athaliea closed her eyes again, trying to picture the faces of those around her in the dream. Tutor was there…how had DG found Tutor, alive no less? No matter, he could only help her. If they were going through the Pahpay field, they had to be heading to Finaqua, where he could help her bring back her magic.

But who were the others? A fair-haired man, with blue eyes, in a duster and a worn hat, who had tried to fire his weapon at the runners; a Viewer, who had looked positively terrified; and…it seemed so ridiculous that he could still be alive. Athaliea had long mourned for the loss of her best friend, when the Witch had not divulged his fate to her. But in that dream, she had—or thought she had—seen Ambrose. In clothes that did not resemble his days as her top advisor, and with a zipper down his skull, just like a head-case. She shuddered. Could Scairse really have found a way to bring back that arcane practice, and used it on Ambrose? Did he remember _his_ past, let alone DG's?

There was a noise behind her. Athaliea stood in time to see the Witch walking slowly towards her.

"I've brought you a gift," she said sweetly, handing Athaliea a flower. As she passed, Athaliea saw in her daughter's face something she hadn't for a long time—Azkadellia.

Hoping that perhaps she could reach her, as she had DG, Athaliea said softly, in a tone her Azkadellia would be familiar with, "Balkharnovix. Once extinct in the fields of the Pahpay." She raised the flower and smelled it; its stupefying aroma—for it was this plant's juice that made Vapours—overwhelmed her, filling her with longing for the outside world. "I thought I'd never enjoy their fragrance again," Athaliea said. Then, she remembered what she was supposed to be doing, and spoke to Azkadellia. "I suppose some things thought dead aren't always so."

Azkadellia—she hoped—was turned away from her, not looking in her face. "Save the poetry for someone who cares."

No luck. The Witch was back. "What do you want?" Athaliea asked angrily.

The Witch turned. "The little witch is reconnecting with her past."

Athaliea almost revealed that she already knew this, but caught herself. "Then hope lives," she said. The Witch walked away again. "And what about you, Azkadellia?" Athaliea asked, appealing to her daughter. "Perhaps DG isn't the only one who needs to unlock her memories."

"I'm only concerned with the future," Scairse answered. But Athaliea heard the slightest quiver in her voice—Az was in there, somewhere. She held out the flower again, and to her surprise, the Witch took it. Athaliea caught her hand.

"Then why are you here, talking to me?" she asked, noting with satisfaction that Scairse looked frightened—clearly, Az was putting up a fight. "Why have you locked me away for all these years, kept my hope alive?"

Azkadellia looked bewildered for a moment; then, when she looked back up at her mother, Athaliea knew that her daughter had lost to Scairse again. The mad red glint was back in her brown eyes as she said, "To see your face the day that hope dies."

Athaliea felt as though all the air had been forced out of her lungs as the Witch dropped her hand and clapped once, vanishing again.


	24. Ahamo

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Ahamo sat up on his stack of blankets. Remembering where he was, he sighed, rubbing his eyes. He would go into the Realm today, he decided. He needed to take care of a few things, and maybe he could make a little extra money. He quickly made himself something to eat, then climbed the ladder that led up and out of his oddly-constructed home.

After hiking through the forest a short ways, he reached the field where the Realm of the Unwanted was hidden. He counted his paces until he was halfway through the field, then walked to his right a ways. He nearly tripped over the stupid trapdoor; every damn day, he thought.

Ahamo slid down the ladder, into the loud, dark underworld, and landed with a thud. He wondered vaguely who would need the Seeker's services today as he made his way to a local pub, to see if they needed help at the bar. Everyone in the Realm loved his almost 'otherworldly' drink mixes.

* * *

"Hey! You!" the barkeep yelled at Ahamo as he walked into the pub. He didn't know Ahamo's name, nor did anyone else in the Realm. Very few even knew he went by 'Seeker.' Of course, it was common in the Realm of the Unwanted to operate anonymously. "You got a visitor!" he shouted.

Ahamo was surprised. A visitor? He wasn't sure who knew to look for him here. Ahamo walked to where the man pointed, in the room where the main bar stood. He sighed when he saw who was there, but went in anyway.

"Airofday," he said to the longhaired woman with her back to him. She turned around quickly.

"Seeker," she said. Her ridiculous eye makeup and costume glimmered in the dim lighting of the pub. He raised his eyebrows slightly. _Get to the point_.

Airofday picked up the paper on the counter behind her and handed it to him. Without interest, he unfolded it. WANTED, it read. Below were four pictures. So it was a bounty she was interested in. Before Ahamo could look up to say no, Airofday spoke again.

"They are looking for Ahamo," she said. Something stirred inside of him. He looked more closely at the four pictures this time, hardly daring to believe it. But—yes, that had to be her. And…was that Ambrose? Of course it was, how many times had he looked at that portrait? The other two he didn't know.

"They asked for him by name?" Ahamo asked.

Airofday watched him steadily. "Yes."

Not entirely trusting this greedy bounty huntress, Ahamo kept up his pretence. "I've been seeking Ahamo many years." Airofday sipped her drink, not looking at him. "He holds valuable secrets."

She was not interested. Good, Ahamo thought, no one's put her up to this. "You can ask them all the questions you want before we turn them in," Airofday told him. "I'm offering you my usual split for your help."

How could he turn his daughter in for a bounty? No, wait…if he could get her…if it really was her…Ahamo mentally shook himself. If it really was his daughter in the Realm, he needed to see her. It was his promise to Thalie. The Witch of the Dark had to be stopped. If Airofday wanted to turn DG in, he would just have to improvise and ensure that at least she was not captured.

"Are you in?" Airofday asked impatiently.

Ahamo turned. "I am," he said. "But we do it my way," he said dangerously. "Just the two of us."

She took another sip of her drink. "Good. Meet me here, at moonrise. After midnight."

* * *

At the stroke of midnight, Ahamo waited for Airofday's signal as he watched her in the pub. She walked in, seeing the four travelers.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Ahamo heard her say. _Yeah, right_.

Someone he couldn't see spoke. "Where can we find the Seeker?" It was DG. He knew it had to be, no one else could possibly sound so much like his Lavender Eyes. He had to see her, signal be damned.

"I'm here," Ahamo said, appearing from behind the curtain that split the bar.

The girl turned to him—she did not recognise him, he could tell, and it was like a stab in his heart. "We were told you know where to find Ahamo," DG said.

"Show me your palm," Ahamo asked. He had to make sure that this wasn't a trick of the Witch's, that she hadn't found out about their plan.

The tall man behind her spoke up. "What for?" he demanded.

Ahamo wasn't sure he liked this man. "Do you want my help or not?"

"It's okay," DG told her friend. She stepped forward and raised her right hand.

"The other one," Ahamo told her. She complied, and he started to smile, when—

"Now!" Airofday yelled. Men leapt from all around the pub, behind the curtains, under the tables, and started to run for the four friends.

"We had a deal!" Ahamo roared. One of the thugs cut the electricity, and the whole room began to flash. Ahamo ran forward and picked up DG. She protested, screaming loudly, as he slung her over his shoulder and ran.

"DG!" he heard someone shout as he ran away.


	25. Eclipse

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Ahamo pulled the control of the balloon again, so that its direction matched the point of the Arometre. It was a balloon just like the one he had arrived in at Finaqua, but he had built this one himself. It was, again, part of the grand plan; come up with a way to get DG to where the Arometre points her. Well, he had no horses, cars would be useless, so he built something he knew how to use. He flew with his daughter, high over the OZ, just before dawn.

Ahamo couldn't believe how beautiful DG was. She looked like her mother at that same age, as he'd told her. She still had his blue eyes. He smiled to himself as he watched her lean over the edge of the basket.

"So," DG said, straightening up. "How did you end up here?"

Ahamo laughed. "Well, when I took off from the Nebraska State Fair, I got caught in a freak storm, and somehow slipped over to this side. Rough crossing, but when the clouds cleared, I was hovering over this crystal blue lake, and the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."

DG smiled at him. "My mother?" she asked.

"From that day on, I was hers," Ahamo said, looking back at her. "We married, had two beautiful daughters, and the perfect life."

Something clouded DG's face. "Till I messed it all up, by letting the old witch escape."

_Oh, honey_. "Your mother and I would have given anything to keep that memory hidden from you," Ahamo said truthfully.

DG shook her head. "No," she said to Ahamo's surprise. "I have to know."

Ahamo felt so proud of her. "When your sister—killed you, when your mother gave you Second Life, we both knew something drastic had to be done. Both for the OZ and for you. That's why I took you to the Other Side, brought you to that tiny farmhouse."

DG watched him with sad eyes. "Why didn't you stay?" she asked.

"Well, my job was here," he told her. "Protect the secret of the Emerald. Prepare for your return."

"So," DG said. "All that time, you and my mother could never be together?"

Ahamo gave a sad smile and looked away, aware that DG was still watching him.

* * *

He couldn't believe it. Less than twelve hours ago, he'd doubted whether DG was alive, and now, they ran from the Tombs with the Emerald in hand. His hope for saving both of his daughters had been brought back. Ahamo was half a step ahead his daughter. He slowed and turned his head as he headed for the balloon. "It won't be long until the Eclipse, we have to hurry!" he called. "DG," he said, stopping outside the basket, "you are everything I hoped you'd be. I am so proud of you."

The sound of horses caused him to wheel around. Azkadellia—the Witch, he told himself—stood only a few metres away. The sight of his daughter almost swayed him, but he stood firm.

"I'm _so_ proud of you," she mocked. "My little girl. You're everything I hoped you'd be." She came closer. "Daddy, you old romantic." The Witch waved her arm once; Ahamo was thrown aside. He felt himself grow smaller, then fly up, into the Witch's hand. He saw her face sneering down at him. "Daddy," she said. "I've missed you so much." The Witch gave a false laugh, clapped her hands together, and Ahamo instantly found himself in a new location.

A tremendous longcoat walked past his prison door. He knew he had to be in the Black Tower. Cursing himself for walking straight into the trap, he sat down on the stinking, rusted bench. He heard a clanking coming from the hole in the ceiling. A stream of slop, some kind of middle ground between solid and liquid, dropped from it. _Damn it_.

The Eclipse was in a matter of hours. How was he going to get back to DG? More importantly, how was DG going to get here? The Witch had, no doubt, taken the Emerald by now, and captured DG. Ahamo gave a silent prayer that DG's friends were as good as she seemed to think.


	26. In The Jaws

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Athaliea felt her prison quake ominously. "Get him up here," she heard the Witch say. Then there was the usual noise that indicated her arrival. Athaliea stood from the overturned log, facing Scairse. She looked smug; no good was to come.

"Oh, Mother," the Witch said sweetly. "My day has come at last."

Athaliea's heart sank. How could she have forgotten? It was the day of the Double Eclipse. And the Witch looked thrilled. _No, please, no,_ Athaliea thought. _Please_. Before she could ask the question she dreaded, however, Athaliea was sucked into the teleportation the Witch created, leaving her prison for the first time in six annuals.

It took Athaliea a moment to orient herself. She laid a hand on the desk she stood by, gazing around what looked like an office. Two longcoats, huge and oafish, stood by the door. Where had the Witch gone? Athaliea turned around, but did not see her. She walked slowly towards the floor-to-ceiling window that stood open, making the curtains ripple in the breeze. Even in such dire conditions, Athaliea could not resist breathing deeply the air that came so freshly to her. She looked up into the sky—and her stomach dropped. The suns were getting so close to the moon. _DG, please…_she thought. _Please, be all right_._ My angel_._ I can't lose you again_.

She heard the door open. Turning around, she saw Azkadellia enter, one hand clasped over her middle. The Witch smirked. "Oh," she said sweetly, "Don't you look pretty?" Athaliea glared at her. "Good thing, because I brought you a date."

Athaliea was bewildered. A what? Then, a line of longcoats marched into the room, two of them close behind a struggling prisoner—a prisoner with long, blond hair. Athaliea's mouth fell open as she looked into her husband's eyes. He too, seemed stunned. His face slowly lit up.

"Is it really you?" she asked softly. Ahamo ran to her, taking her thin form in his arms.

"I have dreamed of this day," he told her.

"I love you," she said, and despite all, in the face of certain death, they kissed. Athaliea was taken back to the saferoom of the Finaqua Palace, and the gazebo, and their suites—everywhere she had ever felt this way. Nothing was wrong now.

"Enough!" the Witch barked. Ahamo turned, his arms still around his wife, one hand holding hers. Scairse took a few steps forward, and dropped the hand she had had at her stomach. The Emerald of the Eclipse glittered from a pendant.

Athaliea gasped, Ahamo sighed, cursing inwardly, and the Witch's face grew animated. "Do you know," she choked, "how long I have been waiting to see that look on your face? No phony smile, no brave front. Just pure and utter shock. It may be the most honest gift you've ever given me, _Mother_."

"I am not your mother," Athaliea snapped.

Ahamo looked up suddenly, as though he had just seen the Witch for the first time. "Our—our daughter is really gone?" he asked, not wanting to believe it.

The Witch turned away; her lip twitched. "Both of your daughters are gone."

"DG is dead?" Ahamo asked in horror. Athaliea felt sick. _No…DG…_

"Your little girl's quest has ended as your royal line ends today: darkness. Permanent," the Witch spat, "darkness." And she turned abruptly and marched from the room, leaving the Queen and her husband in shock.


	27. Reunited

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

"She—she has to be lying," Ahamo said, more to himself than to Athaliea. "DG must be alive."

Athaliea didn't answer. Too many things were screeching to a halt inside her. All she could do was watch the ever-darkening skies in horror, clutching her husband to her. Then, as the three celestial bodies met, a beam of light shot up from somewhere beneath them, glowing a poisonous green. It stretched higher and higher, until it seemed to reach the moon.

But—wait. As Ahamo held Athaliea close; the green beam of light was faltering—why? They could only hope that the machine was not working, but they had no way of knowing. There were undoubtedly longcoats outside the door.

"Ahamo," Athaliea whispered, moving her hand to his arm.

"I know," he said. They each held their breath, hoping—no. Ahamo exhaled. _Damn it_. They heard shouting outside the door. Longcoats were running down the hall.

"Intruders! The brain room!" one of them yelled. And, as they turned back to the window, they watched the beam of light change colour. It lost its green tint. A deafening roar began to fill the air, like someone was screaming. Athaliea buried her face in Ahamo's chest, covering her ears against the horrible sound.

"I love you!" she heard Ahamo shout; he, too, thought that this surely was the end.

And then, quite suddenly, the sound, as well as the reverse Seeder's light, vanished. Athaliea raised her head. All was dark and still outside. It was impossible to see anything. Ahamo held her tighter.

After several minutes of tense nothingness, Ahamo spoke. "Do you think—?"

The door of the room opened. Both of them turned around to see Azkadellia. Unsure, she took a few steps inside, and stopped. Athaliea hardly dared believe it. Ahamo stepped forward.

"My Azkadellia?" Athaliea asked. The princess smiled, just as sweetly as she had when she was a little child. A wave of gratitude and joy threatened to overtake the Queen; she had to put one hand against the doorframe to steady herself.

Ahamo drew his daughter close, and whispered something Athaliea couldn't hear, which Azkadellia answered.

Another movement in the doorway caught Athaliea's attention; her heart leapt to her throat. "DG!" she cried, feeling herself well up.

A smiling young woman with bright blue eyes, wearing dirty clothes, smiled beautifully, running to her mother's open arms.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Athaliea said, holding DG's hands. Her voice was full of emotion as Ahamo walked back to her with Azkadellia, and the four of them drew together in a tight circle—a reunited family, at last.

There was another sound at the doorway, and this time it was DG who ran to the newcomers; Ambrose was there, embracing DG, to Athaliea's amazement and overwhelming joy. A Viewer picked up DG, squeezing her tightly and making her laugh. The man with blue eyes hugged her as well. Athaliea smiled to herself. There would be time for introductions later.

"Thank you," DG said to her friends, laughing. She led them to the window, where she joined her family. A tiny skittering of nails on the floor behind them announced Toto's arrival. Athaliea smiled, leaning her head on Ahamo's shoulder as a happy tear ran down her cheek.

The Royal Family stood in a line on the balcony, together at last. They waited nervously for the suns to emerge from behind the moon; certainly, the machine had been stopped, but had it worked? Athaliea grasped Azkadellia's hand tightly, and—light burst out from the darkness. Athaliea breathed a sigh of relief as DG said, "That's the OZ I remember." Her family smiled. "I'm so glad to be home."


	28. The Beacon

**Majesty: Part III**

**A Tin Man Fan Fiction**

**Being an account of the life of Queen of The Outer Zone, Her Royal Highness Athaliea Galinda Gale**

Chapter One

"It is, therefore, my great pleasure to announce my reinstatement as Queen of the Outer Zone, if she will still have me," Athaliea said to the cheering throngs that filled Central City Square. It was the fourth time she had given this speech, with the same reactions all over the Zone. "My husband is, once again Prince Consort." More cheers. "And my daughters—both of them—are the Royal Princesses." This had less of a reaction. It had in Gillica, Quade, and Munsch. _Why should Central City be different? _she thought bitterly. She glanced momentarily back at her daughters. Azkadellia looked whiter than a sheet, scared out of her mind, clutching wide-eyed DG's hand.

"My people, I beg you to hear me," Athaliea announced, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "The Crown Princess Azkadellia—" hisses seared the air, but Athaliea continued. "The Crown Princess Azkadellia is not the same sorceress you think you have known. She was inhabited by the one we call the Witch of the Dark, or Scairse, sister of the Ancient Galinda, daughter of Ozma. The Witch's imprisonment, two millennia ago, was broken some fifteen annuals since; she escaped into the Crown Princess. Azkadellia cannot be held responsible for the Witch's reign. I beseech you to act as the wonderful people I know you are, and show her the mercy that you now show me. You can be assured that she will work just as hard as my advisors and myself to rebuild our great country. Now, to attend to the matters of restoration; the Royal Advisor, Consort, and myself will share our economic relief plans, as well as…"

Ahamo watched his wife speak. She was eloquent as ever, but in the recent months since the Witch's defeat and her liberation, she had not returned to her fullest liveliness. Perhaps she never will, he thought. He looked behind him. The blue-eyed Wyatt Cain stood solemnly next to the door, flanked by his son, Jeb, and the Viewer, Raw. Ahamo took a step closer to his daughters. Azkadellia looked as though she wanted to melt into the floor. DG looked angry—more people were hissing as the Queen talked about the reconstruction of the Witch's damage.

"You're all right," Ahamo whispered in his elder daughter's ear, squeezing her wrist. "We'll be in Finaqua by sunsset." She swallowed, and nodded. The Queen finished her speech, waving to the citizens. She turned back to her family, eyes momentarily closed. She sighed, then looked up.

"Let's go, hm?" Athaliea asked, coming close to her husband and daughters.

* * *

"Your Majesty?" the nurse asked. "We're ready." She wheeled a zipperless Ambrose out. He was smiling gaily as he stood up and thanked the young woman. He stood awkwardly in the lobby of the Central City Memorial Hospital for a moment, looking at both halves of his life. Jeb, Cain, and Raw stood to his right, the Royal Family on his left. Then he threw open his arms and went straight to Athaliea, hugging her tight.

Tears filled her eyes. "We've missed you," she told him. He nodded.

"Me too, Thalie," Ambrose said. Next he shook Ahamo's hand, then Raw, Jeb, and Cain, followed by DG, who received a tight hug and a whispered "Thank you".

Then he came to Azkadellia, who was hanging back. She looked unsure, and gave him a half-smile, extending her hand. Ambrose looked at it for a moment, then pushed it aside.

She was caught by surprise as he swept her into a gentle embrace, which she gladly returned. The two still held hands, as they once had when Azkadellia was a child, as the perfectly mismatched family descended the sunlit steps to the waiting cars below.

* * *

Well, then. Here we are at Part III. I can't believe how fast this story has gone; I'm a little sad, actually. I'm struggling a little bit with this part, so don't be distressed if I slow down the updates, they are absolutely coming, and won't be more than two days apart. Reviews, as always, are yearned for. Much love to all of you.

Fae


	29. A Conference

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

"Az, we've been over this," Athaliea said in a worn voice. Azkadellia stood and began pacing again. "I understand why you feel the way you do, but there's not much to be done about it. The best we can do—"

"Mother, I feel like I've _done_ nothing. I feel like I've been sitting in this ivory tower…a figurehead, certainly, nodding and smiling, but not someone who's actively helping!" Azkadellia cried in frustration. It was nearly midnight, and Azkadellia had just returned from a reconstruction tour in the Kyrrhe Mountains. She had not given up on what she could only see as her inability to help—this was the fourth such mission she had engaged in. On this particular, one, though, she had not had the calming presence of Raw, who had been a source of great solace to her; he had returned to his tribe with Kalm about one month previously. Athaliea sighed.

"Darling, please sit down, you're making me ill," she said. Azkadellia complied, swatting at a fly that had zoomed in through the slightly open window. "Now, I think you've done much more than you give yourself credit," her mother said.

"But I caused more destruction than I'm repairing," Az said.

"No, you didn't. The Witch did," Athaliea told her sternly for the umpteenth time.

"No one believes that," Azkadellia muttered.

"Yes, Azkadellia, they do. And it doesn't matter if there are some Munchkans who disagree, some Gillicans who think I'm a madwoman for letting you back into—well, anything," Athaliea said, standing up. She moved around her desk to her daughter and put her arms around Azkadellia's shoulders as she sat next to her. "You're my daughter, and no matter what, I will always be here on your side. I know what happened. The people closest to you know what happened. And those who are loyal to the Gales, which, last I checked, comprised nearly the entire population of the Zone, will believe me because I have never lied to them. No Gale Queen has ever lied to them. Even if they are wary, they will at least remember that."

Az closed her eyes and dropped her head. "I just…I don't want to be pathetic. I want to be everything they thought I could be, before."

Athaliea nodded and pulled her daughter close to her. "I know, angel. But all we can do is give them time and effort. Memories, especially bitter ones, fade too slowly for anyone." Azkadellia sat up, wiping away a tear as she looked away. "Oh, Az. If I could, I'd make everyone see you the way I do now. My girl," she said, hugging her again. "Come on, you're overtired. Time for bed."

"All right," Az said, voice dry. She stood up at the same time as her mother, but Athaliea stopped halfway up. "Mother?" Azkadellia asked.

Athaliea's eyes were closed; she grasped Azkadellia's arm tightly as she slowly straightened up. "I'm sorry," she said. "Just dizzy. Shall we go?" she asked lightly, avoiding Azkadellia's eyes.

As the princess and her mother left the study, Azkadellia couldn't help but think that she had done much more damage than she originally thought.


	30. For Now

Majesty: Part I

Chapter Three

"Thalie?"

Athaliea turned to look at her husband, who smiled in a nervous way over the breakfast table.

"Are you all right?" Ahamo asked her.

"Yes, of course," Athaliea said. "Why?"

"You're so quiet."

"Oh…no, I was just watching DG," Athaliea told him. She nodded out off the patio, where DG was having a magic lesson with Tutor. She waved her hand in front of her face; it seemed that Finaqua, since its restoration, had become filled with large, black flies that enjoyed bothering people. Ahamo reached over and took her hand. She looked back at him, quickly cutting him off before he spoke. "I think we have two daughters in love, you know," she said.

The tables were turned; Ahamo was caught by surprise instead of the way he'd hoped to surprise his wife. "Really?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Oh, do pay attention, slipper," Athaliea said patronisingly, but smiling playfully at the same time. "Have you noticed that a very solitary tin man has yet to leave the premises?" she asked, gesturing to the rose garden's entryway, where Mr. Cain stood, looking businesslike, but still watching DG. "Or that Azkadellia is once again Ambrose's loyal shadow, and he loves it?" As if on cue, the Crown Princess and the Royal Advisor walked past on the lawn just below them, hands linked.

Athaliea's eyes sparked mischievously over her raised cup of tea. Ahamo frowned. "Quite an age difference," he grumbled.

"Oh, I don't think it matters," Athaliea said indifferently. Ahamo still looked distinctly unsettled. "Ahamo."

His expression cleared. "Well, we'll see."

Athaliea smiled and rolled her eyes, picking up her husband's hand, which she still held, and kissing it.

Athaliea shot Ahamo an angry look as they walked back to their suites from Reception. The new palace healer, Thomas, stood outside with a pleasant look on his face. "I keep telling you, I'm _fine_," she hissed under her breath as they mounted the stairs.

"Sorry, my sources gave me enough evidence to raise concern," Ahamo said in her ear.

"Mm, your 'sources' wouldn't be distracting my advisor from his job at the moment, now would they?" she whispered back before turning to smile at the healer. "All right, Thomas."

After a full examination by the healer, Athaliea sat on the sofa, holding Ahamo's hand nervously, though she tried not to show it as she faced Thomas.

"There's nothing physically wrong that is actively working against Your Majesty," the young healer said. "You are, however, not very strong, and late hours and the strain of your workload are exacerbating things for you. That's why you've been overtired and dizzy."

Athaliea breathed a sigh of relief that she was not sick, but still found it maddening to be told that she was weak—no matter how the bouncy young man euphemized his phrases, that was what he meant. _Weak_…she shuddered; even the word sounded revolting. "Well, thank you, Thomas."

"I recommend a break, just some time to relax and recuperate from all the madness," he said, grinning through his large white teeth.

"I'll take that under advisement," she answered through an equally brilliant smile. The healer bowed and left. Athaliea turned to her husband.

"Ahamo," she said slowly.

"I have to be sure you're all right. You haven't been yourself," he said immediately, putting a hand to her face. "If you're mine forever, I need to take some initiative."

Athaliea smiled. He could always sway her, the demon. "Well, I…oh…that was very sweet. But enough, all right? Everything's just fine," she told him.

Ahamo didn't look quite convinced, but patted her hand. "Let's take a rest. No one's coming today, and I could do with a nap," he said. His wife nodded, leaning back on him across the sofa.

* * *

So I know these chapters have been more like chapterettes, but I swear, there's angsty emotion and drama heading your way faster than a Pahpay runner.

Can I get some recognition for the Pahpay joke?

And maybe a few more reviews? It makes me sad to open my e-mail and have only one or two 'NEW MESSAGES.'

Love to you all,

Fae


	31. Epidemic

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

_Nine Months Later…_

"Impossible," Ahamo said, unwilling to believe what was printed on the piece of paper in front of him.

Athaliea removed her glasses and laid them on the desktop on top of the report she had been reading. "What?" she asked ominously.

"I—I don't think it's quite what they say. At least, I hope not," he said slowly, laying the page in front of her. "But we may have a problem. It looks like the roots of an epidemic."

"Oh, no," Athaliea said. "No, no, no…" she snatched the paper, putting her glasses back on. Her hands started to shake as she read. "It's—it's been reported in Ki'amo?"

"I've got Malai on the telewire now, trying to reach them," Ahamo assured her. "They're probably already on their way, though."

Ki'amo was the resort town where DG and Cain were on their honeymoon; The Royal Couple's wedding gift to the pair had been the two-week trip. If this epidemic's root was in Ki'amo, they needed to leave, immediately.

Athaliea read the paper again. "_And _in Lafabe? Fifteen people…oh, no." She looked horrified. "Get Vali on a telewire as well, see if there is any other news—why did it take so long for this to reach us?" she asked, irritated.

* * *

Ambrose burst into the office just a half hour later, having escaped from a meeting. Athaliea was drumming her fingers nervously on her desk as she spoke to Vali, an aide on the Palace staff.

"—Hospital has reported another four cases," she was saying to the Queen as she read off the paper she held. Athaliea looked up as she saw Ambrose.

"How bad is it?" Ambrose asked Vali immediately.

"Twenty-five cases reported in two cities. Sixteen in Ki'amo, nine in Lafabe--opposite ends of the Zone. All the same symptoms, too," she said. "Starting with high fevers, rashes, and escalating into paralysis and…" Vali trailed off, looking scared.

"How many?" Ambrose asked hoarsely, eyes closed.

"Seven," Athaliea told him gently. Seven people killed; they hadn't even made it long enough for healers to make a connection between their illnesses. "Vali, please find the Consort and the Princess. Chief Cain, as well. I need to see them." Vali stood and started to leave. "Oh, and Vali? Send Princess Dorothy and General Cain as well, the instant they arrive." The girl nodded and closed the door.

* * *

"Has it reached this far south, yet, Your Majesty?" Jeb asked.

"No, but we are in contact with the hospitals in Vorla and Kayve. It's not unlike the strain that attacked the Zone during my mother's reign," Athaliea said. "But the reports on the examinations of the patients in Central City are showing a mutation of that virus; it's faster and deadlier."

"And they have no cure yet," Ahamo added soberly. Athaliea nodded.

"The mirtlegrass that worked on the old virus has exceedingly limited effects on the mutation," she said.

Azkadellia looked up. "What should we do?" Everyone turned to face her. "What can we do that will help? Funds, nursing, anything?"

"Azkadellia, it's not quite as simple as that. They have the best healers working together in Central City already, and—"

"Mother, we need to do something," Az insisted.

"She's right," DG said quietly, holding Cain's hand. They had returned not long before, and dashed up to the office. "We can't leave them to fend for themselves. But we can't put ourselves in danger, Az," she cut off her sister. "That will only make matters worse." Cain nodded once.

"We need to keep all of you safe," he said.

Athaliea rubbed her hands together, then scratched the back of her neck. "We need to get a message out. Ambrose," she said. "I need to warn the people. Find me a list of all reported symptoms, locations, and age groups, as well as what they can do to help protect themselves." The advisor nodded once and left.

* * *

The time notation at the top of this chapter's going to mess with KLC's theory on why I've made Athaliea act so strangely. Here we go! Love that drama, yes? High praises to Alexandra3 and her story, "Coronation," the recent chapter of which inspired me in these next chapters. Thanks.

Fae


	32. Descent

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Two weeks later, after the Queen's announcement, more than seven hundred cases were being treated all over the OZ, indiscriminate of location, population, age. One hundred and ninety-four were already dead. One hundred and ninety-four people who hadn't had even the slight comfort that the healers had been able to provide for those who were dying now.

Athaliea hadn't slept properly since her address. The slightest movement in her presence, the quietest clearing of a throat, made her heart race, certain that someone—Ahamo, Az, DG, Ambrose—had contracted the illness that was refusing to yield to healers' efforts. As a result she was persistently hot, tired, and feeling increasingly strained.

Thomas was running all over the Palace, between telewires and the royal family, trying to glean more information on the treatment of this epidemic.

General Cain, meanwhile, had stopped allowing people in and out of the Palace. His son, as the head of security, was in charge of enforcing his rule.

Athaliea slammed her hand down on her desk, killing a black fly. She immediately regretted it; the sound made her throbbing head give a particular sharp pain. She brushed it aside as Ahamo came up behind her, rubbing her aching shoulders. She took his hand. "Have you seen Thomas today? Everyone's all right?" she asked nervously.

Ahamo nodded. "Perfectly fine. You need to get checked, though," he told her.

Athaliea ran a hand through her hair, which was undone and trailing about her loosely. "I will, when Ambrose comes back."

"Here!" Ambrose half-shouted as he ran into the office. Ahamo raised his eyebrows at his wife, but her eyes were closed as she gave a silent prayer that Ambrose had found something on his much-contested, brief excursion outside.

The advisor waved a glass jar. Looking closely, Athaliea saw a clump of mirtlegrass at the bottom.

"Ambrose, is that—?" Ahamo started to ask, but stopped before Ambrose could continue. Athaliea had raised a hand to scratch the back of her neck again as she thought, but Ahamo caught her wrist, slowly moving aside the silver locks that fell down her back.

"Oh, Thalie," he groaned.

"What?" she asked. Ambrose moved behind her to see what Ahamo was looking at.

"Get Thomas," Ahamo ordered Ambrose. Athaliea had never heard him like this.

"Ahamo, what _is _it?" she demanded, rising to face him as Ambrose ran from the room.

"You have a rash," Ahamo said, paling.

Athaliea had the horribly familiar sensation that the entire world was crashing to a halt. Her head spun. "Get everyone out of here. You, too," she said in a dry voice.

"If you're sick, I definitely will be," Ahamo said.

"That's why you need to leave," she told him.

"No, Athaliea. I'm not going. We'll send the rest of them away, but I am not leaving you." His voice broke and Athaliea put a hand to his cheek.

"Your Majesty?" Thomas asked, appearing in the doorway with Ambrose. Athaliea turned away and started to go towards him, but stumbled, falling forward. Ahamo didn't even have time to catch her before she hit the ground, unconscious.

* * *

So, if some of you were confused in that last chapter, with the whole Jeb-appearing-from-nowhere act, just go back and take a look at the chapter again; I left out a line break, I couldn't believe it. Thanks for pointing it out, KLC. Anyway. Jeb is the Head of Security, Cain is a General. All good? All right then. Review, review, review. My heart skips when I see a fat inbox. Make my day better, please?

Fae


	33. Valley of the Shadow

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

It was not difficult to convince the palace staff to leave; none wanted to get sick, regardless of how they may have felt about the Queen. Those that stayed were Jeb, a few of his guards, General Cain, Tutor, Malai, Vali, and of course, Ambrose. Ahamo had a harder time persuading his daughters to leave the Palace. Even the insistence of both Ambrose and Cain had succeeded only in quartering them all to one small section of the Palace, under the watchful eyes of a healer whom Thomas had had to drag from the town nearby. No one wanted to travel in such dangerous times. Most of the staff had only gone as far as the town too.

Athaliea, meanwhile, was slipping more and more into the raging fever that had begun to overtake her in her office. After half a day of increasingly weak protests, she had given up on forcing Ahamo to leave her. She lay in bed, sweating and aching, claiming that she was freezing cold, and finally losing sensation in her feet, then legs, as the disease's paralysis ascended slowly. Ambrose was trying his hardest to force a cure from the specimens he had procured, but he could not enter the bedroom until he was absolutely certain to test reactions. He was under immense amounts of strain.

"Damn!" he shouted, using the word he had learned once from Ahamo. Azkadellia jumped. Ambrose ignored it, swatting at the fly buzzing around his head. The two were sitting in a makeshift pantry-turned-office. A folding table had been put up between the high shelves, along with some mismatched chairs.

"How do you think she is?" Azkadellia asked quietly as Ambrose pulled another blade of mirtlegrass from the jar and began to press out the juices into a mortar.

He sighed. "I don't know. It's been—" he checked his watch "—twenty-four hours. None of these cases have anything in common but the symptoms. The timing is always different." Ambrose heard her fidgeting and looked up sympathetically. "Your father will let us know," he told her quietly. Tears sprang to Azkadellia's eyes. Ambrose came around the table to her, taking her in his arms gently.

"Thalie? Thalie, can you hear me?" Ahamo asked. His voice was rough and dry; it sounded disembodied, coming through the semidarkness of the room. He wondered how long it would be before he, too, got sick. He had fallen asleep—for how long, he wasn't sure, but it was nighttime now. Thomas was nodding against the far wall. It made Ahamo nervous that he had fallen asleep, especially when he had been so suddenly awoken, though he had no idea by what. He had to hear Athaliea's voice again.

Athaliea was breathing in a shallow way, laboured and rough. Her eyes were closed. "Thalie?" Ahamo repeated, louder this time. Her hand twitched, and he grabbed it.

"A…hamo," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I…love…you."

"I love you too, darling," he said, pressing his forehead to her icy hand. "Try to rest." It was all he could say; there was no way he could say what was going on, whether Ambrose or the healers had a cure.

Athaliea shook her head. She seemed to be fighting to maintain consciousness. "You need to stay safe. Help them," she rasped. "Tell them I love them."

"Thalie…"

"I'm yours…forever…"

Ahamo clenched his jaw against the tears as Athaliea closed her eyes again, not to reopen them; she had entered the crisis—the paralysis had already set in hours before—and he knew that she, like so many before her, would not make it past this point.


	34. I Will Fear No Evil

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

"Your Highness," Thomas said, who had woken up, and was laying a hand on Ahamo's heaving shoulder; the consort was trying desperately to sort himself out, something he was finding increasingly impossible. "Do you—?"

"Go wake the princesses. And Ambrose," he told the healer, still clutching his terrifyingly still wife's hand. "Tell them—"

There was a sudden, loud banging on the door of the outer sitting room. Furious, Ahamo stood and stormed into the hallway. Even the shut doors did not mask his roar of "_What_?"

Ambrose stood before him, carrying a tiny glass phial filled with a violet liquid. "It's the flies," he said in a worn, but grimly satisfied voice. "Az and DG are reproducing this stuff downstairs right now." Ahamo glared at him. "The flies, when killed, have an antibody in their blood. Your younger daughter has a penchant for insecticide and killed one witha stack of mypapers," he added with a ghost of a grin. "Combine the blood with the restorative in mirtlegrass that worked on the old strain of this virus, and it's exactly what should knock it out."

"Are—are you sure?" Ahamo asked.

"Sure enough to reproduce it," Ambrose told him.

"And if you're wrong?"

"Ahamo, I've checked and rechecked the formula. It has to be the answer," Ambrose insisted.

"But Athaliea would be a test run?" the Consort asked, turning away and running his hands through his hair. Ambrose said nothing. Ahamo thought of Athaliea; how could he go on without her? It seemed impossible. Now, with a glimmer of hope—he turned back to face his friend. "All right," he said quietly. "All right. Come in."

Thomas looked surprised that Ahamo had allowed anyone in the room, but listened to Ambrose's explanation, and retrieved a syringe from his kit at his request. "May I use all of it?" the healer asked.

"I think you'd better," Ambrose whispered, looking horrified at how Athaliea had degenerated in just two days. Thomas slid the needle carefully into the vein in the Queen's arm, releasing the medicine. "I suppose I need to stay here until…we know?" Ambrose asked.

Ahamo's eyes didn't leave Athaliea's face as he nodded, taking her hand and resuming his seat next to the bed.

Ambrose sat down next to him and folded his hands. "We just—"

"Wait," Ahamo told him quietly, hoping dearly that he had not just condemned to death all four lives in the room.

* * *

Now the question is not only 'will the medicine work?,' but also, 'will it work in time to save her?'

Let's be honest now, dears, who picked up on my fly hints besides Cat Yuy and KLC?

Reviews are adored. And they inspire me to write faster.

Fae


	35. Indebted

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

"Ahamo," Ambrose said sharply. He was looking straight at Athaliea's face, which was alarmingly still. Ahamo had been tracing a circle with his thumb over the back of her hand for nearly two hours, staring at one spot on the bedspread, channelling his energy into his motionless wife. He had been so focussed that he had not noticed the sound of Athaliea's ragged breathing leave the air.

* * *

"AZ! DG! CAIN!" Ambrose bellowed, running into the collection of suites where they had been sectioned off. He noted vaguely that the clocks were chiming three. Cain sat up on the sofa, looking bewildered. Jeb started to sit up, startled, but hit his head on the coffee table he had fallen asleep under, and swore loudly. DG and Azkadellia came running out of DG and Cain's bedroom, where they had been magically duplicating the medicine.

"What?" Azkadellia demanded, looking more and more tense by the second as Ambrose didn't speak. Then, suddenly, he rushed forward and kissed her firmly. The room watched in surprise and awkwardness until Ambrose had the good sense to step back, blushing furiously but intensely proud.

"She's going to be all right," he told them all. Az, who would have been ecstatic, instead looked as though she didn't entirely know what was going on.

Jeb sat up again, more carefully this time, rubbing his forehead. "It worked?" he asked.

"It worked. Now, grab some medicine, and come with me. We need to be inoculated. Jeb, find Malai and Vali, and Tutor, and have them come, as well as anyone else who needs to."

"I can't believe it," DG said weakly. "Glitch, you, you…she's really going to be all right?"

Ambrose nodded. "Really," he told her. "Now go!" DG never looked happier to be ordered about, and followed her older sister from the room to fetch the purple remedy.

The whole group trooped back to the royal couple's suites, where Thomas admitted them into the sitting room. Ahamo took his daughters in his arms, kissing both of them as he held them.

"It's all right now," he said. "She'll be fine."

"Ow," Cain said behind them as Thomas gave him the injection. Ahamo felt like laughing—his state of mind was somewhere between giddy and tragic.

"Not one for needles, General?" he asked. Cain rubbed his arm bitterly and went to answer the door, admitting Jeb and handful of others who had stayed. All of them looked nervous to be in the Queen's apartments.

Ambrose gave himself an injection and stood up to face Ahamo. "I'm going to contact Central City Memorial now; maybe we can start sending this with couriers tonight," he said, gesturing to the bottles on the table. Then he started to leave. Ahamo followed him into the hallway.

"Ambrose," he said. The advisor turned. "Thank you."

Ambrose smiled kindly. "She's my best friend, too," he said. "You would have done the same."

"I—we are all in your debt," Ahamo insisted. "The OZ owes you big time."

Ambrose laughed. "I'll get working on my list of demands, then." Ahamo took his hand, clapping him on the back, and allowed him to go for a telewire.

* * *

I'm really sorry these last couple of chapters haven't had their proper line breaks; I really hope it wasn't too confusing for you. I've fixed it. Reviews, please. I do so love them, as proven by my additional chapter for today. How much do I love you all? Enough to break my own one-a-day rule (yet again). Share the love?

Fae


	36. The Sweet Wine of Life and Love

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Ahamo was the only person present when Athaliea came to. Everyone else was working on distributing the medicine. Ahamo had thought that he, too should help with the long lines of people crowded into the outer driving courtyard of the palace, but his daughters had insisted that he stay with Athaliea.

It was midmorning, six or so hours since she had been given the medicine (jokingly christened Ambrosia by DG), when the Queen woke up.

Athaliea's hand tightened on Ahamo's for a moment, and she slowly opened her eyes. "Ahamo?" she asked, turning her head to see him.

"It's me, darling," he said, stroking her hair. "You're all right. Ambrose found you a cure."

"Ambrose," Athaliea repeated slowly. "Everyone's all right?"

"Everyone's fine," Ahamo told her. "How do you feel?"

"It's not cold anymore," she reported with a flicker of a smile.

"Can you move your legs yet?" Ahamo asked. Thomas had been nervous about this part; the Queen's case had advanced quite far before being treated, and her recovery would be a long time. Athaliea shook her head, chewing her lip nervously. "It's all right," Ahamo told her soothingly, stroking her hair again. "Do you need anything?"

"Can I see the girls?" she asked.

"They were going to come inside and check on you in a minute," Ahamo said, checking his watch. "They're in the courtyard with Thomas and Ambrose and everyone else, giving vaccinations."

Athaliea squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry," she said.

"For what, heart?" he asked.

"If I scared you." Ahamo blinked back a few tears and nodded.

"I don't know what I would have done…" he trailed off.

"Me neither," she said, touching his face.

"Mother?" DG's voice came from the doorway between sitting room and bedroom.

"DG, Azkadellia," Athaliea said, reaching her other hand to her daughters as they came rushing to her.

"Mother!" Az cried, bending to hug her gently. DG copied her and sat carefully down on the corner of the bed.

"I'm so glad you're both safe," Athaliea said, running her hand along Az's face.

"Us? We were worried about you," DG told her.

Athaliea nodded. "I know. I'm glad I'm back with you."

Azkadellia's eyes were full of tears. "Never, never again," she said, sitting at her mother's side and pressing her face into Athaliea's hand.

"Never," Athaliea repeated, starting to drift off to sleep again.

And the four royals stayed there together for a long while, seemingly frozen, accepting of the peace that enveloped them.


	37. Old, New, Borrowed, and Blue

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

_Six months later_

"Thalie," Ahamo said softly, kissing the side of her face. They were still in bed, though it was late morning. She stirred slightly, smiling.

"What is it, dear?" she asked, still not opening her eyes, but putting her hand to his cheek.

"Today's the day," he said, curling closer to her and starting to kiss her again.

Athaliea sighed, the smile fading slightly as her eyes popped open. "Unbelievable."

"She's ready. So are you. This is what's meant to be," Ahamo told her in her ear, echoing his mantra of the last months since the epidemic. Today was the day Azkadellia would ascend the throne, and was also, for the first time in OZian history, the day the Queen would marry her consort. Ambrose had emerged as a hero of what had become known as the Great Scourge, and had then shocked the Zone by proposing to Azkadellia. Consequently, any connection the people had still held between Azkadellia and the Sorceress had melted away as they watched their Crown Princess take their saviour's hand and accept his ring. Today was the double event, wedding and coronation, which meant that an enormous celebration was planned.

Athaliea nodded. She knew that this was for the best; she could not carry on as Queen. Still, though she knew that only good came from her decision, she felt as though she might…_miss_ her crown. Then, she would always remember that she was going to have a wonderful life with Ahamo, and know again that she was making the right choice.

"Shall we?" Ahamo asked, getting out of bed. He went out to the sitting room as Athaliea struggled to sit up. Her mobility was still poor, despite Thomas' efforts to help her strengthen her recovering body. When she addressed the people, as she had only once since her illness and would again today, she used two canes to hold herself up, but when just with her family, in the Palace, she used the beautiful wooden wheelchair Ahamo now brought her. DG fondly referred to Athaliea as FDR, but neither she nor her father would explain this to the Queen.

Ahamo helped her into the seat, made sure she was comfortable, then kissed her.

"Mm," Athaliea said with a smile. "I love you."

"I love you," he answered. "Now, come on. You have a bride to dress."

* * *

"Darling, you look…absolutely breathtaking," Athaliea said from her position near the sofa. Azkadellia twirled in a most un-Az-like fashion, showing off the snow-white gown. DG smiled, hoisting herself to her feet under a six-month belly; she and Cain had returned from their honeymoon with a little surprise for both themselves and their family. As was the custom, however, DG's dress was flowy and loose, much to her chagrin, and hid her swollen stomach.

DG walked slowly around her sister, who stood obediently, waiting for a verdict. "Well…it needs jewelry," she said decidedly, unclasping the silver pendant of the twister at her throat. In the eye of the storm a small diamond glittered. "Something borrowed," DG said under her breath.

"What?" Athaliea asked.

"Oh," DG laughed nervously. "It's an Other Side thing. When you get married, you're supposed to have something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue."

Athaliea smiled. "That's lovely. You have all of that, I suppose," she said to Azkadellia.

"Well, not everything," Az answered.

"You have something old—all your memories with Ambrose," DG told her.

"And…the new life you're making with him," Athaliea said.

"And my necklace."

"And the lake you're getting married next to," her mother finished after a thought. Az smiled.

Then, there came a knock at the door. Ahamo's voice sounded. "Ladies, we're ready to begin." The smile on Azkadellia's face vanished.

"I think I'm going to faint," she said hoarsely.

"No you won't, angel," Athaliea said, squeezing her daughter's trembling hand.

"We're coming," she called to the door. DG took her position behind her mother's chair and linked her other hand in Az's, rolling Athaliea to the door. She opened it, smiling into her husband's face. "I believe you need something?" she asked. A nearby maid handed Azkadellia and DG their bouquets as Ahamo took his elder daughter's arm.

Athaliea turned to Azkadellia while they crossed the floor to the enormous oaken double doors that led to the palace's Grand Hall. "I love you, Azkadellia." Az nodded, tight-lipped and looking frightened. "Don't be scared," Athaliea said softly. "We'll be right there."

* * *

Here's to my sister's wedding. This was me and my mum not too long ago (she did, in fact, borrow my necklace). Still love you, 'Coley. Review, Review, Review.

Fae


	38. Showers of Light

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Cain stepped forward, offering one arm to his wife, which DG accepted. A stern-faced usher came forth as well, moving behind Athaliea's chair in the processional. After Athaliea and her escort would follow Ahamo and Azkadellia.

The enormous organ struck four chords, and the flower-draped doors of the Hall were opened. All the guests—five hundred and forty-three, at last count—rose as the Princess and General started down the aisle. When they had arrived at the seventh row of chairs, Athaliea motioned to her usher, who began pacing slowly, pushing her forward.

As she passed each row, the guests bowed or curtsied. She acknowledged them with a sweet smile, reminded of her own coronation ceremony and wedding in this hall. In place of the bower, she saw a young Ambrose, and Ahamo, both smiling broadly. She saw Adlai, in place of the new Master of Ceremonies. And she saw her parents, just as she remembered them. She had long imagined what they would have said to her at her own coronation; now she wondered what they would have to say about Azkadellia's. What would they think of her daughters? Her husband? Her whole life? She felt tears forming in her eyes as they reached the minutely raised platform. Here the usher left Athaliea to wait for Ahamo, whom she would sit with when he gave Azkadellia away.

Athaliea smiled as she watched Ambrose's face come to life, taking Azkadellia's arm from her father. Az had lost all traces of worry and she was smiling wholeheartedly with eyes only for Ambrose; Athaliea realised with a shock what she must have looked like on her own wedding day. Ahamo approached her, smiling, though his blue eyes looked a little watery. He offered his support up the step onto the platform, and helped her to sit in one of the chairs behind the bridal bower.

When they saw that Ahamo and Athaliea were seated, the congregation sat as well, ready for the ceremony.

"Welcome, friends," the Master of Ceremonies called over the sea of guests from his lectern. "We are here today to celebrate…"

Athaliea watched her daughter squeeze Ambrose's hand. She smiled, lacing her fingers with Ahamo's. Suddenly, it was time to exchange the vows. "Ambrose, if you would repeat after me," the grey-haired man said. "You, Azkadellia."

"You, Azkadellia," Ambrose said, looking deep into her eyes.

"Are the one I wish."

"Are the one I wish."

"To share my life with," the Master said.

"To share my life with."

"I will support, love, and cherish you."

"I will support, love, and cherish you," Ambrose repeated.

"I give you this ring, which has no end, symbolic of my eternal love for you," the Master of Ceremonies concluded.

Ambrose's voice cracked slightly as he slid the gold band on Azkadellia's finger. "I give you this ring, which has no end, symbolic of my eternal love for you."

"Azkadellia?" the man turned to her; she repeated the vows with less clarity and volume than Ambrose, but it didn't matter. No one needed to hear the words to see how happy Azkadellia was.

"I now proclaim this man and this woman joined in blessed matrimony," the Master of Ceremonies announced, and he pitched a handful of golden dust high into the air, where it seemed to freeze for a moment and catch the sunlight in the high, vaulted windows of the hall.

It showered over the new couple as they kissed, adding a sparkling light to Azkadellia's hair. Athaliea smiled at the joyous eruption of applause as Ambrose and Az turned to face their guests. As it died down, Athaliea nodded to Ahamo, who helped her stand and approach the lectern, where she stood on her own using the canes that had earlier been skillfully hidden.

"My friends," she said to the room. She had rehearsed and rehearsed what she would say, so she would not read anything. She had not even told Ahamo what her speech would be. "My family. Nearly thirty annuals ago, I became your Queen. You welcomed me with open arms, young and inexperienced as I was. We have endured much in my time as your leader; I thank you for everything you have given and forgiven me, and I am glad if I have done anything that is half as meaningful for you. There comes a time, however, when one must know that they have done all they can. I feel as though I have brought you, my priceless charges, to a safe place, and am confident that I can at last entrust it to a new carrier, who will lead it onward. My daughter, the Crown Princess Azkadellia, today becomes Queen Azkadellia May Gale I of the Outer Zone, aided by her Prince Consort and Royal Advisor, Ambrose Aelphaeban." The hall erupted again into applause. Athaliea felt her arms and legs shaking as her strength drained. "Today, I give her my crown, with a full heart, and every hope for the bright future I see for the OZ."

Ahamo stood again and came forward, helping Athaliea back to her seat next to him. With more chords from the organ, Azkadellia, whose tears were now streaming down her smiling face, turned to face the empty throne Athaliea sat next to. Still holding Ambrose's hand, and followed by the Master of Ceremonies, she sat gracefully, solemnly, to tumultuous cheers.

Athaliea bowed her head as the Master removed her crown, placing it gently on Azkadellia's brown mane. She then put her hand into her daughter's, as the Master passed them the silver, star-tipped sceptre, and the Ruby, the prized gem of the Crown Jewels, procured by the Grey Gale herself. It was set in a gold ring that Azkadellia slid onto a finger of her free hand. When the man stepped aside, it seemed as though the entire palace would burst from sheer volume; Athaliea was reminded again of her own coronation. She and Azkadellia held the sceptre together; Az's magic made a stream of shimmering sparks appear out of the sceptre's star. Athaliea knew then that she had passed the torch.

"I present to you," the Master of Ceremonies bellowed over the roar, "Her Majesty, Queen Azkadellia May Gale I, Queen of the Outer Zone." And he flung another handful of shimmering dust, silver this time, over Athaliea's and Azkadellia's heads and joined hands.

* * *

Who picked up on my Wizard of Oz hint? I think I've gotten almost all my magical references from the book and movie covered by now, am I correct?

Fae


	39. On the Banks

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

_Three annuals later_

"Vaeda," DG called. "Vaeda, sweetheart, come here!"

The little blond girl ran ahead to the flowery banks, paying no mind to her mother, who sighed exasperatedly. Athaliea laughed as they all made their way to the gazebo by the lake. "What?" DG asked, smiling.

"Nothing," Athaliea said, accepting Ahamo's help up the steps of the little green porch. "I was just thinking about how many times that was me, calling after you and Azkadellia." She leaned on her cane as she lowered herself carefully into one of the white upholstered chairs that had been brought out earlier.

"Hm," DG said, putting down the picnic basket and sitting next to Cain on the swing. Ahamo sat down next to Athaliea.

Just as DG was about to speak again, Vaeda came trotting up the steps, a bunch of flowers clenched in her little fist.

"Fo' you," she said, draping herself over Athaliea's lap and handing her a white flower from the water's edge.

"Oh, thank you darling," Athaliea said, rubbing noses with Vaeda.

"Dis yuhs," Vaeda said, handing Ahamo another blossom. Then she made the round of her deliveries, ending at her father. Cain scooped her up and nibbled her neck playfully as she giggled. They all laughed as Vaeda came scrambling away from Cain. She wriggled her way into the extra space on her grandmother's seat, snuggling beside her as the two surveyed the scene with the same sparkling violet eyes.

"Where's Az?" DG asked her mother, who was stroking Vaeda's blond hair.

"She'll be out soon, she said," Athaliea answered, watching her daughter start to unpack the basket and taking a stack of plates. "She and Ambrose are finishing Reception." She smiled at Ahamo. "I'm sure you miss that," she teased him.

"Ah, Reception," he sighed fondly, pulling out his sketchpad and drawing pencil. "Standing awkwardly in the background for two hours a day, wondering vaguely what I was supposed to be doing. How have I made it so far without?"

Athaliea rolled her eyes, accepting a small plate of tea sandwiches from DG and passing it around. "Vaeda," she said. The little girl sat up, and took a small piece of the sandwich her grandmother held. Vaeda smiled as she swallowed, her chubby cheeks bright pink.

"Here, Vaeda," Ahamo said, handing over his book. Athaliea took it, holding it up for Vaeda to see.

"Oooh," she said softly, gently touching the paper. The picture was of Athaliea's profile, looking on at Vaeda, who was picking flowers at the water's edge; he had finished it the day before.

"Dad, that's really good," DG said, taking a bite of a sandwich and craning her neck to see the picture.

"You sound surprised," Ahamo teased. "Didn't I tell you, you got your artistic ability from me?" DG rolled her eyes, smiling.

"Here we are!" a female voice called out from behind them. Athaliea turned, still twirling the blossom Vaeda had given her, to see Azkadellia and Ambrose walking down the short path to the gazebo, arm in arm.

Athaliea raised one arm. "Hello, darling!" she called back. The two came up the steps, greeting their family. Ambrose took a sandwich and dropped into one of the available chairs, closing his eyes and sighing contentedly.

"Something wrong?" Athaliea asked him with a smile, patting his knee.

"Oh, he's just a little…you know," Azkadellia said, sitting down next to her mother. Vaeda slid off Athaliea's chair and climbed into Az's lap. Athaliea looked back and forth between the two; Ambrose's eyes were still closed, and Azkadellia was intensely absorbed in playing with Vaeda. Then Athaliea looked at Ahamo, who shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich.

"Glitch," Cain said after a long pause. Ambrose sat up. "Have you heard from Jeb?"

"Why would I hear from him before you?" Ambrose asked, opening his eyes but not turning to look at Cain, instead addressing his question to the air in front of him.

Cain shrugged. "He always reports in to you, usually before he does to me."

"No, sorry," Ambrose said, nonplussed. There was another long silence. Athaliea looked between Ambrose and Azkadellia again, then finally cleared her throat.

"All right, you two," she said. "What's going on?" She fixed Azkadellia with her patented stare; queen or not, Azkadellia was still subject to her mother.

"Oh my God!" DG shrieked suddenly.

"DG!" Az said. She exhaled roughly. "Stay out!"

"Az! That's so exciting," DG cried, ignoring her sister's annoyance. "Glitch!" she got up and hugged him.

Athaliea arched an eyebrow at Azkadellia. "Oh, all right," Az said, flushing bright red. "Since some people don't appear to have the manners to stay out of other people's private _thoughts_." She made a face at DG, who stuck her tongue out. Athaliea wondered briefly if the two of them would ever grow up. "I," Azkadellia continued slowly, "am going to have a baby."

The reaction was immediate and intense. Vaeda started asking what was going on, Ahamo stood up and hugged his daughter and her husband, Cain laughed out loud and clapped Ambrose hard on the shoulder, and DG—oddly—squealed loudly, clapping her hands and smiling hugely. Athaliea put her arms up to her daughter, who bent and hugged her, eyes full of tears.

"I told you it would happen," Athaliea whispered to Az, who nodded.

"We were trying for so long," Azkadellia said, pulling back and wiping her face.

"I know," her mother nodded.

"If it's a girl, I want to call her Athaliea," Az said.

Athaliea felt as though her breath had been taken away, and her own eyes filled with tears. She nodded. "I'd like that," she said.

"Good." Azkadellia smiled, kissing her mother again.

"Ambrose," Athaliea said, holding out one arm to her friend. "Come here." The advisor hugged her, then took his wife in his arms, kissing her playfully on the neck.

Vaeda started skipping in circles around the gazebo, twirling and waving her arms, as the Royal Family of the Outer Zone sat together, laughing and talking, celebrating and enjoying, until dusk began to settle in on Finaqua, blanketing the world in its quiet peace.

* * *

I cannot believe that this is almost over. What you should all know is that I am a sucker for the happy ending; it's my biggest vice. I could never hurt the ones I love. In fact, add me to your author updates if you're interested in the possibility of a story about Vaeda and her new cousin. Love to you all. Final chapter tomorrow, always appropriate, because it's my seventeenth birthday.

Fae


	40. In the Light Of Shadows

Epilogue

_The banks of Finaqua, rippling under a light western breeze, just after sunsset, when everything is covered in the gilt-edged blue of the day's end. Soft yellows, greens, violets, fading into a royal blue shade, tint the line of the black, shadowy mountains across the lake from a handsome man and a beautiful woman. His arms are wrapped around her slim waist. One of her hands holds his head close to hers as they kiss; the other rests on a walking stick._

_Images flash through their minds. A smiling, brown-eyed toddler, a blue-eyed child in a red dress, an old man with thick grey eyebrows, a short boy with a mop of curly dark hair and a stack of books. A palace, buried for years in a tomb_ _of ice, a whirling storm, the descent of an orange balloon, a monument depicting a man and a woman outside a tall marble building. An embrace, a reuniting of souls, and a cloud of silver dust shimmering as it falls to earth over two heads; one silver, one deep brown._

_And, a kiss. A secret kiss, in a secluded room. A kiss shared many annuals since, between two children who had no idea where they were going, or what to do when they got there. Between two souls that had connected, that had been made to interlock like pieces of a puzzle, and that not even a difference of universes could keep apart._

_It is often said that two people are made for one another. These two are the reason that it is said; their hearts, minds, and souls are one, and regardless of any infinitely possible station one or the other may have held, each is meant for the other. The lowest of maidens, the highest of kings will meet once in a lifetime, but none can ever have what these two have unless they know what it is to be intended for another's love._

_And in this way, we are all destined to find the one we need to complete our soul. We need only the right place to look, which only our most secret of hearts knows, and will share with us if only we ask. The hope of the future, the dreams and loves of the past, have all met here to share this moment with these two beings on this night._

_Their hope of this evening is a hope that is shared by every soul placed on this earth. All that is missing for the others is the connection, which only they can find._

_Go, these two say, find your place in a world your heart leads you to. Go and find that piece of you that calls to you there, and you will find that you too contain a piece of someone else. Find they whose love you were meant for, and they who were meant for your love. Take the leap that these two once did, and find your missing piece in the last place you would expect._

* * *

Dear Readers,

This chapter is officially published at 11:11 pm, Chapter 13 of section three. Make a wish and cast a spell. This has been an amazing experience, and I am so glad to have shared this story with you. I want to recognise my reviewers, as always, and I want to thank you for reading. I hope one day to be the author who answers as much of her fan mail as she can, so I want you all to know how much I appreciate the honour of sharing my writing with you.

Please, please, if you like my work, add me to your author alerts. Never fear, school and AP courses could never drive me away from my true love. Love to you all, and I'll write soon.

Fae

And a special thank you to my wonderful, faithful reviewers: Cat Yuy, Cinnamon Cigarettes, CountryPixie, Future ADA, KateCayce, Kay Seda, KLCtheBookWorm, Onora, ted, and wildsky. You are champions of the fanfiction universe. Thank you for keeping up with my story and sharing your love.


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